Altogether Different
by In Hiding
Summary: COMPLETE. HOUSE/OTHER. A forced encounter, an accidental patient, an unexpected friend, a summer fling. And never the same again. A canonical story taking place the summer between S4 and S5. with the understanding of things left unsaid.
1. Forced

There's was a forced entry into each other's lives, not forced BY them but ON them by Cuddy's edict that he "get in that exam room and do your damn job, or I swear to you that I'll find someone who will." Kelly Janes was the unwitting occupant of said exam room. Greg House was the unwilling doctor who after a crass comment under his breath and a loud retort for the whole waiting area to hear actually DID do his "damn job", and did it so well that what should have been a 5 minute routine encounter turned into a whole summer of meetings and partings --- and refusals to part --- that left him broken and whole and altogether different than he was before.

Kelly had heard the whole exchange as it had happened right outside the open exam room door. She was grateful her reason for being there was mundane enough to keep his annoyance level to a minimum. "I just a need new prescription for Synthroid," she supplied before he had a chance to ask. ".025. I have my old prescription here."

"You've had regular blood work done to check dosage?" he asked, entirely disinterested.

"It was monitored by my family doctor. Quarterly checkups. I'm not from here, and I just realized I was out of refills. Can you give me the script, or do you need to take blood first?"

He was already reaching for his pad...which he realized he'd left in his office, having expected to avoid the clinic that day. "I can write it. I'll be right back."

Cuddy was still at the desk looking through a chart. "Finished already? Good; you can take the rectal parasites in 6."

House barely missed a beat before smiling beautifically at her and lying through his teeth. "Sorry, Dr. Cuddy, but my patient needs a full exam; I'm going to be awhile."

His patient heard that, too. She'd been standing in the doorway of the exam room, hoping for a grab-and-go exit. She debated on whether to foil him then and there, but was too late --- before she could even open her mouth he was already ushering her back in the room.

"When was the last time you had a full physical?"

"Not that long ag -"

"Well, you can never be too careful," he cut in. "Let me get you a gown..."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd just take my prescription and go."

He surprised her putting a hand on her shoulder and holding her at arm's length. "Look, I don't like you and you don't like me."

"I don't even KNOW you."

"And I assure you that if you did, you wouldn't like me. But, it would mean a LOT to me if you'd let me give you a physical."

Amusement finally surfaced in her, and she relaxed and played along, matching his mock intensity. "Doctor...are you coming on to me?"

He released her shoulder but not his demeanour. "Would it make a difference in your answer if I was?" he asked her, straight faced.

She chuckled then. "Well, I guess I should be flattered that you've chosen me over rectal parasites. But can we agree to skip the PAP test until at least the second date?"

He handed her a gown and drew the curtain. "Why don't you go get undressed and then we'll discuss it?"

He started taking her history while she changed, sensing that if he didn't at least make a good show of it she was going to bail and he'd be up to his elbows (well, maybe only knuckles) in someone's... misfortune, and when he pulled back the curtain found her sitting cross legged on the exam table with her jacket draped backwards over her gown, looking at least 10 years younger than the age she'd just reported. It was then that it first occurred to him that she'd arrived ridiculously overdressed for the weather. "What's with the jacket? It's got to be 100 degrees outside."

"I keep it with me for those times when I'm stuck sitting for hours in an air conditioned waiting room until a doctor can be cajoled into seeing me."

He didn't smile, but his eyes revealed he appreciated her wit. "Did your doctor ever talk to you about cold sensitivity or circulatory problems? Maybe something related to your thyroid?"

"Not that I can remember." She recoiled from him slightly when he touched her arm, took her hand in his to examine her nail beds, which she could see were blue. "You're really warm."

"That's because you're freezing." He took her pulse and checked the circulation in her feet. "Hmmm... Have you been sick recently? Have any infections? Flu-like symptoms?"

"Um... I'm not sure. I guess, maybe." She hadn't been sleeping well, hadn't been eating well, and with the stress of her move and her husband, she'd just attributed her fatigue and fogginess to that. It hadn't really occurred to her that something might actually be wrong.

His eyes practically lit up when he took her temperature, something that she neither understood or liked. "Do you happen to know your normal body temperature?"

"I've always run a little cold - 97.5 or .6."

"Wait here..."

He returned a moment later with a wheel chair and Dr. Cuddy in tow. "I'm afraid you'll have to take care of those pesky rectal parasites on your own. My patient needs to be admitted."

"What??" The exclamation came in stereo, followed up immediately by Cuddy. "Dr. House, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"No time to talk. This woman is in stage 2 hypothermia and we need to get her temperature up right away before her organs start to fail."

Kelly spoke up, confused by his obvious glee and not sure if this was a ploy or a real cause for alarm. "I just came in for a prescription!"

Cuddy apparently wasn't sure either. "House, what is this about? She not even shivering."

"I know... Kinda neat, isn't it?" And he wheeled her out of the room.

It was Dr. Cameron that met them in the emergency room. "What have you got?"

"31 year old in stage 2 hypothermia. We need warming blankets right away, and push some warm saline while you're at it."

Cameron wasn't sure what to make of things either, but helped Kelly onto a gurney and signaled to a nurse to do what House had said, even as she questioned him: "Hypothermia? Caused by what?"

"Apparently caused by the air conditioning."

House was grinning, as much as he ever grinned, and that was what convinced Cameron that he was telling the truth. She felt her adrenaline surge; though she was no longer part of his team, she wasn't immune to the excitement of this kind of anomaly, nor was she immune to his own excitement.

"Ma'am, my name is Dr. Cameron. Do you know where you are?"

Kelly was terrified and feeling very strange, but still had the presence of mind to respond in a way that entertained House. "Apparently I'm at home in bed, but I have to say that on the nightmare scale this is pretty lame. The "ma'am" part was scary, though."

Cameron smiled though kept working, hooking up monitors and starting an IV. "Sorry about that." She took the blankets from the nurse and ordered blood to be drawn. "Don't worry; we're going to get you warmed up."

House was on the phone ordering Thirteen to gather the team. He hung up and approached the gurney, watching Kelly recoiling from the heat. He didn't pull away when she grabbed for the closest thing she could reach and found his hand. "Nurse, can you remove her make-up? I want to be able to monitor her colour."

Cameron helped her roll onto her side. "Sorry, this is going to be a bit uncomfortable, but I need to take your core temperature and this is the most accurate way."

Kelly's face, which grimaced at the violation, was tinged blue around her mouth as House had expected. When both the nurse and Cameron had finished their tasks, House released her hand and was about to dismiss himself to order her admission and meet with his team when he noticed her eyes losing focus. "Ma'am? Ma'am?" Little had changed on the monitors, though the readings had not been fantastic to begin with. "Cameron..."

"We need to get her submerged, but I worry about the water temperature; I don't want to hurt her."

The nurse suggested calling the physiotherapy department and having them prepare one of their whirlpool tubs, which would have temperature control functions. Cuddy, who had been hovering and watching with interest, volunteered to make the preparations and was on the phone before she left the room.

House was shining a flashlight in Kelly's eyes. "Ma'am? You still with us?"

"Please stop calling me "ma'am"," were the last words she managed before she passed out.

Cameron and House debated the significance of her symptoms in the elevator, her gurney between them. Her apparent inability to shiver was as fascinating as her temperature, which had dropped another degree. House had already told his team to meet them for a "pool-side differential", but he quickly made another call requesting a crash cart, just in case.

The water temperature was reading 97 degrees when they arrived, and Cameron was concerned. "It's too warm. We need to start it lower and work it back up while she's in it."

The physiotherapist who had awaited their arrival informed them there was no cooling mechanism --- they would have to wait or add ice.

House was already taking off his shoes and socks and emptying his pockets. "There's no time. Get her off the monitors. Now." His team started to arrive, with Cuddy close behind, as he was lowering himself into the water. "Foreman, Kutner, get her in here. Thirteen, get lots of towels in case we need to resuscitate. Cuddy, can you get her a room?"

"Already done. I'll deal with the admitting paperwork."

"Kutner, rig up the IV stand over here, then go get her stuff from the emergency room and look through it; see what you can find."

As Foreman and Taub lowered Kelly into the water and into House's arms, Cameron dismissed the orderlies who had brought her there, telling them to leave the equipment. Then after receiving a 911 page she followed them from the room. Cuddy, kneeling beside the tub, helped rest Kelly's head on House's shoulder.

"I'll have someone send up some dry clothes for you both. Is there anything else you need?"

"You just take good care of those rectal parasites and don't worry about a thing."

Kelly laughed, having regained consciousness in time to hear his comment. And they all breathed a sigh of relief, right before she started seizing.

45 minutes later, the relief had returned. Three soggy doctors and one soggy administrator went to schedule scans and tests and find dry clothes. Kutner, who had remained dry during his errands, was in conversation with the physiotherapist in his office. And Kelly, exhausted but conscious and aware, remained in House's arms as they waited for her temperature to rise.

"I'm Kelly Janes, by the way. I don't think we've been formally introduced."

It was the first time she'd spoken since her time in the ER. "Greg House," he responded, matching the irony of her tone. "Nice to meet you." He helped her as she shifted her position and reclined further to support her frame, instinctively protecting his leg. His hands were on her hips, keeping her from floating.

She turned her face toward his, her forehead coming to rest against his chin. "Can I ask you a question, Greg House?"

"Of course."

"What's wrong with me?" Unexpectedly, her voice caught. As her mind was awakening, so was her fear.

Kutner, returning to the room, had heard her question and was about to interject an answer before House, with his trademarked lack of compassion, could say something insensitive. He was surprised when House answered.

"I'm not sure. But we'll figure it out; we always do."

That seemed to settle her for the moment, and she closed her eyes.

Kutner kneeled by them and moved her hair aside. "I need to check your temperature," he explained, waiting a moment for the "beep". "That'll do. I'll get some nurses to come and help you get dressed."

"That's okay; I think I can manage."

Kutner looked at House, who nodded. "Okay. There are scrubs and extra towels for both of you in the shower room just over there. Just let me get Dr. Connor to help me get you out of the water."

The physiotherapist joined him and gently they moved her from the tub to a wheel chair, immediately covering her with towels to keep her warm and to afford her some modesty. They then turned their attention to House, who after having his bad leg soak in the hot water for so long managed pretty well on his own. Ignoring the offer of his cane, he took the handles of the wheelchair. "Kutner..."

"I'll be right out here if either of you need anything."

In the shower room House helped her move from the chair to a bench. He grabbed the clothes and towels that had been left for him and excused himself, stripping down and changing as fast as he could. When he returned he found her where he left her, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. "Uh... You okay?" he ventured.

"I'm not dead, don't worry," she assured him with a thin but brave smile. "I just may have been a little ambitious."

The next thing she knew he was beside her, leaning her forward and untying her gown, drying her skin as he uncovered it, averting his gaze at all the right times. Not a word passed between them. And then she was dressed and on her feet, his arm around her waist supporting her weight as best he could.

Kutner had moved the gurney to just outside the door and was quick to take over, laying her down, discretely reattaching the monitors under her shirt, rebandaging her arm where her IV had ripped out mid-seizure. "They're waiting for her in radiology," he told House, who hadn't left her side. He paused. "Do you want to take her down?"

House's eyes narrowed. Kutner assumed it was at the strangeness of the question, but actually it reflected House's surprised recognition of its odd appropriateness. "Of course not. Get everyone to my office when you have some answers." His terse response was offset by his soft expression meeting Kelly's nervous one.

Kutner didn't notice. But House did. And as he limped barefoot to collect his belongings and put on his shoes, he wondered what on earth had come over him.


	2. Fishing

House waited until the others were gone before he made his way to her room. She was happy to see him, a response he wasn't used to.

"I feel very popular, having so many people doting on me like this." She struggled to sit up amongst the swaddling of blankets that were meant to keep her warm.

He approached the bed and used the controls to raise it for her. "Winter-wear is a good look for you," he commented. Someone had brought her a knitted hat from the lost-and-found. Her short light brown hair had curled some as it dried, leaving small ringlets poking out from under the wool.

"I asked them for the matching mittens, but no luck." The dark circles under her eyes did little to take away from their brightness. "I was told I might not see you again. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

House turned away briefly to hide his annoyance, not at her but at his team for talking too much. He removed his suit jacket and tossed it aside. "I come for the sauna, I stay to avoid the rectal parasites." And it was a sauna; they had raised the temperature in Kelly's room after they realized her own temperature had started to drop again. House could feel sweat beading on his forehead. "I'm sure someone has already asked, but is there anyone we can call for you?"

Her expression revealed nothing as she shook her head "no".

He pressed her. "Not a family member? Your husband?" He was playing dirty; a wedding band and engagement ring had been found on a necklace chain in her purse, probably removed for her initial exam.

She was on to him. It was something about his sincerity when she'd been told to expect none that tipped her off. "What exactly is it you're fishing for, Dr. House?"

"Dr. Kutner got your medical history, but wasn't able to give me an explanation of why you're here or where you're going."

"And you want to know because you think it's relevant to my condition?"

He leaned back against her bed, facing the outside window. "Well, SOMETHING needs to be relevant, and your tests showed no tumours and no infections. If whatever your hiding IS relevant, we're going find about it. But if you're going to waste my time jerking me around you'll probably be dead before it'll help you."

He both respected and feared what he saw when he turned to look at her. It wasn't anger in her eyes, nor terror or guilt, which is what his special brand of truth often brought out of people. Instead, she was amused, as though she had him figured out. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place? Pull up a chair and tell me what you want to know."

And so he did.


	3. Fate

At first it was the fact that he needed to work to get it out of her that kept him engaged. Then it was her way with words. Then it was the subject matter that hit a little close to home. And then it was the way she said "goodbye".

What House learned in bits and pieces was that Kelly and her husband Mark had been married at the tender age of 24; they had meant to wait but when his military service ended abruptly after he was heroically but gravely injured in the line of duty, the value of time and the wastefulness of waiting became painfully clear. They were married in a small ceremony in his hospital room. And people called it a miracle the day they walked out of the hospital together as man and wife.

They lived in a small west coast town because neither could imagine leaving the ocean. He got a job with the local newspaper and she finished her Masters degree online while working at the girls' shelter where she and Mark resided as house parents. They had no children except the girls they helped, and that was enough for them. For six years, this was their life.

Then Mark died. It was winter, and he'd arrived back at the shelter after work to find the girls in their pajamas at 7 at night. Apparently a movie marathon had been planned, and Kelly had smiled a big smile and suggested that perhaps before he took off his coat he might run to the convenience store for some microwave popcorn. The car that collided with his had lost control on a patch of ice. The driver was fine. Mark never woke up.

"Do you believe in fate?" House had interjected then.

"You mean, do I believe that something conspired to take my husband's life through a series of unrelated events and made me the unwitting catalyst? Or are you asking me if I blame myself?"

House thought of Amber, and said nothing.

"The answers are "no". And "sometimes", depending on the day. But not today." Kelly removed her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, thinking. "Usually I don't regret my request. But I always regret not having made the last moment count, to feel like there was closure. After that day, I promised myself that whenever I was with someone I cared about or was starting to care about, I would always be sure to say goodbye, just in case."

After that she'd tried to keep it together, but the feeling that something was missing in her life was too great to overcome. She knew it was HIM that was missing, but felt sure there was something out there that would fill part of the void. The day that the last of the girls who had been in the shelter when Mark had died was settled into a good foster home or established out on their own, she gave her notice and started making arrangements. Most of her belongings were put into storage or moved to her parents', her car was serviced and made ready for a long trip, and she spent an afternoon wading in the Pacific and mourning him all over again before starting on her journey.

That was 16 days ago. In that time she'd seen a great many things and met a great many people, having deliberately and fearlessly began conversations with strangers in hostels and in coffee shops and on park benches and at roadside rest stops.

"I didn't feel well," she answered one of his questions, one of the only that seemed at all related to her health. "Looking back now, I can see that there was something wrong. But I haven't felt like myself for so long, physically or mentally, and so while I noticed a difference I just thought that it was more of the same, plus the stress on my body from such a long trip and bad food and not always a lot of sleep."

"Did you use air conditioning in your car?"

"Rarely. I've always like the "hot car" feeling; it used to drive Mark crazy when I'd close the vents on my side or insist on rolling up my window."

She'd pushed off most of the blankets by now, and House had turned down the heat for his own sake; he was perspiring heavily, while she was only mildly flushed. It was obvious that her energy was starting to falter, and when House glanced on the wall and noticed the time he felt obligated to let her sleep, though his compulsion was to stay. "It might help if you could remember the places you've been, specifically, though obviously there's really too many to expect -"

"I wrote it all down," she interjected. "Times, places, people. I've never been much for journalling, but I knew I'd want to remember it all. That someday it would be important." She paused and smiled. "I hadn't expected that "someday" might be today."

At his request, she gave him her car keys. He would have her belongings brought to her room, he promised, and her car would be checked from top to bottom for environmental factors that might have contributed to her condition.

As he turned to leave she grabbed his wrist. "My journal is in the glove box. It's... There's a lot of personal things in there."

"I'll get it myself and bring it to you. Maybe you can go through it and write out -"

"You can read it, if you need to." Her smile was sleepy and a little shy. "I figure I can trust you with it, because I know your secret and will use it against you if I have to."

"Oh really? And just what secret is that?"

"That you're not the mean bastard you pretend to be and that everyone here apparently thinks you are."

She was expecting a biting and ironic comeback, which was fair because he would have expected it from himself. So she was surprised when instead he pulled away and his expression darkened.

"I'm afraid you don't know me very well."

He was at the door and turning the handle when she called to him. "Dr. House?"

"What is it?" he answered without turning.

"Goodbye."

He recognized the quiet sentiment for what it was: Closure. Just in case. With someone she was starting to care about.

He left the room.


	4. Manners

If he hadn't been so distracted, he would have noticed when she touched him that her skin was warm. Too warm.

Foreman and Taub had stayed at the hospital, allowing Kutner and Thirteen to go home for the night. Within 5 minutes of his page they met him in the parking lot. He'd already secured the journal and was rooting through her bags and moving items around when they arrived.

"I see you have the keys," Foreman noted. "Could it be that you actually got PERMISSION from the patient for us to do this?"

Taub spoke up. "My vote is that he had a nurse steal them from her room while she was sleeping. The bigger question is what could possibly be so interesting that it would keep House here after hours to actually HELP us."

What was so interesting was not what he was looking for but that he was looking at all. He zipped up the bag he had repacked, putting it over his shoulder, and threw Taub the keys. "I expect it returned washed and waxed when you're done," he said with a mocking, fatherly tone. "No joy riding, boys; and don't think I won't know."

House didn't allow himself to analyze his haste in returning to her, nor the consideration he'd shown in gathering up her toiletries, MP3 player, reading material and some underwear and pajamas for her so that she'd be more comfortable. He'd even found her bathing suit, which he brought just in case she had to spend too much more time in the hot tub.

He beat the page by about 30 seconds. The nurse by her bedside had thrown the blankets against the wall and began covering her exposed skin with compresses. When the nurse saw House, he guiltily and quickly explained. "I came to check her, every 30 minutes like you said. But you were in here with her and I didn't want to interrupt and I assumed you'd take her temperature if she looked like-"

"What IS her temperature?" House interrupted sharply, eyes locked with Kelly's.

"103 peripheral. 104 core. But she barely looks sick and she's not even sweating!"

House was removing her from the monitors once again. "Does this room have a shower?"

"Yes. Yes, sir." The nurse, a young man fairly new to the profession and to Princeton-Plainsboro, knew of House by reputation only, but that was enough. He didn't know what to do or say, and expected the worst kind of reaction to what would certainly be viewed as his mistake.

So he was relieved when Kelly spoke up. "Nurse, what's your name?"

"Brian, ma'am. Brian Hinkley."

House saw her cringe at the "ma'am", but said nothing.

"Brian, I think Dr. House can handle things from here; we've been through this before." She smiled reassuringly. "But I'd really appreciate it if you could help me get on my feet, and then go and bring me a whole lot of dry towels; you can just leave them on the bed."

Brian shot a look at House, who begrudgingly nodded. Relieved, he waited until her feet were on the floor and she seemed steady, and then he was gone to complete his task.

"What the hell was that about?" House asked, grunting as she nearly lost her footing and set her full weight against him; apparently she wasn't doing as well as her little performance had made her seem.

"The poor man was obviously terrified of you."

Having reached the bathroom, House closed the toilet lid and sat her down on it as he went turned to turn on the shower. "See? He's terrified because I'm a mean bastard." He was able to make light of it now, what she'd said before, what he'd replied. When Kelly didn't answer him, he first thought that perhaps he'd won the argument. But when he looked at her he realized she wasn't doing well at all. "Hang in there; it'll just be another second."

This particular shower room was wheelchair accessible, meaning it was wide and had a bench; House imagined Cuddy had planned for this eventuality, though probably expecting Kelly would need to be warmed up, not cooled down.

He crouched painfully beside her to do a quick exam. The nurse had been right about one thing. "Kelly?" It felt strange to him to use her name. He tried to never have to see patients, let alone address them that informally. "You're not sweating. Have you had trouble with that in the past? Did you sweat during your trip here?"

She seemed altered though she managed to shake her head and she slurred, "I don't know."

The water seemed to revive her a bit though she stayed quiet, and she was able to sit up on her own under the spray. Once he was sure she'd be alright for a moment, he went back into her room and found the nurse delivering the towels as ordered. "Nurse," he barked.

"Yes, sir?" The man practically stood at attention.

House wondered if he'd been in the military. Which made him think of Mark. Which made him think of Kelly. Which made him do something very out of character for him. Namely, to be nice. "Thanks for bringing the towels. Would you mind also bringing me another set of scrubs?" He gestured to his shirt, which was wet from having leaned into the shower to get her settled. "Please?"

Nurse Hinkley's expressed flashed confusion for only a moment. "Um... yeah. Yes. Of course."

"And I'm going to need to take some blood and get a urine sample once she's cooled down. Can you bring a tray?"

"Sure. Right away, Dr. House!"

House shook his head as he returned to the bathroom with the towels. "You okay in there?"

"I'd give my right arm for some conditioner."

That seemed like a good sign. Without answering, he retrieved her backpack from where he'd dropped it by her bed and rooted through her toiletries once again. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash. Pulling back the shower curtain, he delivered them with a small bow and was rewarded with a tired but obviously alert grin. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown."

"I'm a mean bastard, Lucy, and I'll convince you yet," he replied, as he for the second time that day removed his shoes and socks to keep them dry. Propping his cane just outside the stall, he entered and sat down beside her, right of the full brunt of the spray. He hid a small grin of his own when she laughed at him.

She leaned into his side, as much a gesture of camaraderie as necessity, and went quiet again, closing her eyes. He let her rest.

"Um, Dr. House?"

Nurse Hinkley had returned. "What?" House reached over to pull back the curtain.

"The tray is by her bed. And I'm, uh, going to leave a thermometer right here on the sink for you. Okay?"

"Thank you, Brian," Kelly called.

The nurse smiled slightly and his voice gained some confidence as he held up the scrubs. "Oh, and I wasn't sure if you were a medium or a large, Dr. House, so I brought both sizes. I'll leave them right here by the towels."

"Alright," he said dismissively. Kelly nudged his side, and he begrudgingly mimicked, "Thank you, Brian." She was appeased. And Nurse Hinkley left for good with a story he couldn't wait to tell his colleagues.

House adjusted the water temperature downward, making both of them start. "Feeling any better?"

"Mostly just tired. But cooler."

"It's late. We'll get you to bed as soon as we can." He watched as she picked up the shampoo but struggled to open it. She was obviously exhausted, but from what he could tell it was more of a natural fatigue brought on by the hour than a sign of illness. Which was strange; a temperature that high should point to infection. He wasn't ruling it out, but he had a feeling the answer wasn't going to be that obvious.

She handed the bottle to him. "Can you help me?"

He flipped the cap open and poured some on his hand. "On one condition: you never make me say "thank you" again."

She turned her head to shoot him a look. "I can't agree to that."

"Fine." He leaned across her to get his own hair wet, then applied the shampoo. "Mmm... Feels good." He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he continued to tease her, however dryly. "Refreshing and all that."

"Jerk," she muttered.

"No no," he scolded coyly. "Say it."

"No, I won't." She crossed her arms, feigning resolve.

She reached for the bottle, but he held it away, eyes flashing. "Say it. Tell me I'm a mean bastard."

She shifted to face him. "You," she began, then paused as she deftly reached for his hair and stole some of the foam, transferring shampoo to her own head. "You are nothing of the sort."

"Damn," he cursed, the corners of his mouth fighting to turn up and winning. He grabbed her wrists and lowered her arms so he could finish the job for her, adding more shampoo from the bottle and then leaning her forward to rinse it out before rinsing himself. "This stuff smells ridiculously girly."

"Sorry I didn't pack His-and-Hers; I'll try to be more considerate next time."

He repeated the procedure with conditioner, then passed her the body wash and stepped outside the curtain, putting down a towel to catch the water dripping from his clothes and hair. "Go ahead and get undressed; just let me know when you're ready to get out." The nurse had left the door open, which had been the right thing for him to do, but House now closed it to afford her some privacy.

When she called to him a few minutes later, he passed a towel through the curtain and kept his eyes on hers when she emerged. "Hold still," he instructed, sticking the thermometer in her ear. "This won't be completely accurate, but it'll do." At the beep he checked the readout. "Good enough. I'm going to shower myself." He handed her the thermometer and gave her a nudge out of his way.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"Check your backpack," he instructed as he closed the curtain behind him. He kicked aside her discarded scrubs and added his own to the pile.

"You decent?" he called when he was done and had turned off the water.

"Yep."

"Well, I'm not, so I'll need you to hand me a towel."

There was no reply, so he peeked his face out to see her standing a foot away, dressed in pajamas and her hair combed back, a towel in her hand and an expectant look on her face. "You need me to hand you a towel WHAT?"

"NOW." He wasn't going to play...though even in that he WAS playing.

"PLEASE." But she handed it to him anyway and returned to the sink to brush her teeth.

House stalled, hoping she would finish and leave so he could come out and get dressed. But when he heard the hair dryer come to life --- he had packed it for her, after all --- he weighed the pros and cons, then tied the towel around his waist and avoided looking at her while he grabbed the correct sized shirt and slipped it on, self-conscious. Pants were trickier with his bad leg, so he opted to wait.

Her short hair didn't take long to dry, and without turning it off she passed the dryer and her hairbrush to him. He never usually dried his hair, but he had hopes Nurse Hinkley wouldn't spread all the details of the night around the hospital and he didn't need to give people a reason to question him when he left Kelly's room.

He switched it off as she seemed to finish her bedtime routine, but they didn't move to leave. It was an unlikely stand off, her in terry shorts and tank top, he in a towel, neither remotely threatening.

"I have to pee," she stated.

"I'm not wearing pants," he countered.

"I REALLY have to pee."

"Well, that's great because I need to get a urine sample, but I'm still not wearing pants. Why don't you go and get the specimen bottle off the tray out there, and by the time you're back I can get out of your way."

Apparently she really DID have to pee because she chose not to waste any more time arguing. She did as he suggested and joined him back in the room a few minutes later, climbing onto the bed and placing the bottle in his gloved hands. "Gross."

"Ah, but it gets grosser." He held up the rectal thermometer with a leer. "I need to get a core reading."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." And she may just have blushed, though House couldn't be sure in the dim lighting.

He shrugged, not remotely apologetic, and pulled the privacy curtain.

Embarrassed but tired and resigned, she laid on her side, knees up, facing away from him. She left him to pull down her shorts and underwear as she inquired, "I thought rectums weren't your thing."

"I'm fairly indifferent about them, actually," he clarified. "It's the PARASITES that compel me to beg young attractive women to let me give them physicals."

"So if I had been an old ugly man this would have all gone down very differently." She sighed in relief when it was over and adjusted her clothes.

"Oh dear God, yes." He dealt with the thermometer (98.2 degrees) and then removed his gloves, making use of the waterless cleanser the nurse had included on the tray. He then snapped on a second pair of gloves and prepared to collect blood. "One last thing, and then I'll be out of your hair for the night."

It had actually been quite some time since House had done anything so mundane as taking blood. And he could certainly never recall taking this much time and care to do it. "Just a little pinch..." He took five vials, then made her lay back and get settled. "I'm going to go now; I'll be sending one of my team members up to get you back on the monitors and to spend the night in here with you --- they'll need to check your temperature every half hour or so to watch for changes."

She groaned. "Can't everyone just leave me alone so I can sleep?"

He knew he'd have no trouble convincing her. "Well, the alternative is to insert a monitoring device into your bladder or up your - "

"Okay, okay, you win."

"Yes, I do." He paused. "Do you need anything?"

She thought for a moment. "I guess not. Just..."

"What?"

"Will you be here? If something happens?"

She looked so young and fragile in that moment. He was frustrated that he couldn't make himself deny her. "I'll have to go pick up some clothes from home at some point, but won't leave the hospital for longer than that until you're stable. Someone can page me if anything happens, okay?"

Her smile was sheepish and the fragility was gone. "Thanks. Sorry I'm such a baby."

He just shook his head. "I got your journal from the car. Do you still want...?"

She sighed heavily, fighting sleep. "Yeah, you can take it."

He tucked it under his arm and began to manouver the tray toward the door. Her eyes were closed, but there was something he had to do. "Kelly?"

"Hmmm?" She turned her head to give him a sleepy look.

"Goodbye."

He was gone before he could see the look of understanding that crossed her face. And before he could see her cry herself to sleep.


	5. Milkshake

House was awakened by a pain in his leg and a pain in his ass. The first was literal. The second was Cuddy.

He'd stayed the night in his office, sprawled on his couch with no blanket and still in scrubs. This unfamiliar sleeping arrangement largely accounted for the pain in his leg. Prescription drugs would help with that. Cuddy was another story.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"This is my office," he pointed out. "I'll allowed to be here. Your kind isn't supposed to be able to enter without an invitation." He bared his "fangs" for emphasis before propelling himself to a sitting position. "Any other questions?"

"Yes, actually. What's this I hear about you being POLITE to a NURSE?" She paused and leaned toward him, sniffing. "And for that matter, why do you smell so good?"

"It's called "hygiene", Dr. Cuddy. You should try it sometime. As for the rest, let's just say reports of my manners have been greatly exaggerated." After loading his pockets with all he had emptied the night before, he grabbed his cane from the floor and stood, pushing past her. "Now if you'll PLEASE excuse me, I would be EVER so appreciative if you'd allow me the PLEASURE of taking a piss."

One pain temporarily relieved, he popped two Vicodin and continued on his way, cursing when he glanced at his watch; what the hell was she doing here at 7:30 in the morning?

After visiting the restroom he debated about whether to head home or check in on his patient. He was feeling a little more objective this morning after having gotten at few hours of sleep, and he was already moody because of his wake up call. Those things in mind, he felt it was safe enough to see her.

She was alone. That was good. She was also awake and looking miserable.

"Rough night?" he quipped, and was rewarded with a look that could have killed a puppy. Rather than waiting for her explanation, he picked up her chart. "Oh."

Kelly had apparently been kept awake most of the night as Foreman and the floor nurses had applied cold and heat alternately to try to achieve a balance that never came. There was still no record of shivering or sweating.

"Why didn't you get Foreman to page me?"

"Oh, I tried, trust me. He told me you wouldn't come and that there was no need to bother you with this." Her annoyed tone softened slightly. "I could have blown your cover, but I decided I'd better hold onto your secret identity until I REALLY needed leverage."

He looked at her, amused but also thankful, which she seemed to sense.

"I'm not hungry, but I should eat something. SO, you can repay me with McDonald's, including a milkshake."

"Including a milkshake WHAT?"

She cocked her head and batted her eyes. "Pleeeeeeease?"

He nodded. "Where's your cell?"

"Purse," she said, motioning.

He found it, and used her phone to call his own cell number. Then he called her back. "There, now you have my number. Just try not to make it obvious, that's all I ask. My reputation has already been called into question once today." And with a little wave, he was gone. He heard her call out "goodbye" after him, and a smile came unbidden to his face before he banished it away.

At home he got cleaned up and dressed, then packed a bag with enough clothes for several days or several showers, just in case. He also threw in some less incriminatingly scented soap and shampoo with his toiletries.

He was in line at the Drive Thru when he realized he needed more information.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other end of the line.

"Vanilla, chocolate or strawberry?"

"Um... Listen, this isn't a good time to talk."

House rolled his eyes. "I take it one of my team is there with you?"

"Yes, that's true."

"Okay, fine. Is chocolate okay?"

"Sure."

"And you want the Egg McMuffin and Hash Brown combo, I assume."

"Yes."

"Yes, WHAT?"

"GoodBYE." And she hung up.

House got breakfast for himself as well, though with a coffee instead of a milkshake, and ate his in traffic on the way back to the hospital.

When he finally returned to Kelly's room he found that Thirteen and Kutner had replaced Foreman and Taub, who had likely crashed somewhere for a few hours of sleep. House hung back near the door as they did an exam and drew some more blood. He caught her eye and started drinking her milkshake as he heard Kutner encourage her to eat some of the normal hospital fare that someone had brought in to her. She smiled sweetly and promised she would.

"Good morning, Dr. House," she said, drawing the others' attention to him.

He ignored her, approaching the foot of the bed and addressing Kutner and Thirteen instead. "Get everyone in my office in an hour. Make sure the nurses know what to do here in the meantime." He dropped the bag of food there and hooked his cane on the rail so he could take the chart that Thirteen had just finished updating.

"Her stats were -"

"Your penmanship is impeccable, so unless there's something else you want to add...?"

Thirteen narrowed her eyes but left wordlessly, Kutner with the specimen samples in tow.

The second they were out of sight, Kelly reached both hands towards him. "I'll take that."

He took one more sip of the milkshake before handing it off, then tossed the food bag closer to her. His eyes went back to the chart and he saw that while it had been a long night, his team had made some headway as to determining onset and tracking the condition's course. He was looking forward to the meeting; they had a lot to talk about.

When he looked up, she was happily nibbling on the hash brown, watching him.

"You want more?"

She held out the milkshake, and he took it, but then paused. "Actually, maybe I'd better pass. For all I know you've got a contagious disease that's spread through bodily fluids."

A sly grin transformed her face. "Oh, well; more for me. And an assurance that you'll be inclined to keep any future shower scenes G-rated."

He raised his eyebrows and took a big gulp of the milkshake. "I make no promises."

She was still laughing when he left the room.

The next hour should have been spent looking for answers, but instead he was distracted by his own self-loathing. He berated himself for his juvenile flirting and tried to self-analyze just what the hell it was he was trying to do. He could admit to a passing attraction, but that was understandable --- she was pretty, she was relatively young and certainly youthful, she was clever, and she could dish it out as well as she could take it, though there was that underlying, genuine kindness to her that made her a novelty, something to be studied. She was also damaged, which made her accessible to someone like him even as the memory of her husband rendered her, he imagined, ultimately inaccessible and therefore safe.

But the real attraction, he had to grudgingly admit to himself, wasn't romantic. He and Wilson had barely spoken in the weeks since Amber had been killed, and House was desperately lonely. In this woman he'd known for less than 24 hours he was finding an easy companionship, and as much as it was feeding him it was also making him aware of his starvation.

As he sat at his desk he held her journal in his hands. He'd flipped through it the night before, seen snippets of what she had written. Matter-of-fact records, random musings, honest thoughts, the beginnings of prayers. He'd set it aside not because he was embarrassed or uninterested, but because there was a part of him who was afraid of knowing her that well. She would leave here, one way or another. And then he'd be alone again.

Now, with 15 minutes left before they were scheduled to gather, he disciplined himself to open it, to skip the parts that felt like intimacy and simply record the times and dates and places. He was still working on that when his team began to arrive.


	6. Warm

Kelly had done a lot of nodding while Kutner had done a lot of explaining. When it seemed he was winding down, she thanked him and asked if she could have a few minutes to make a phone call. He stepped into the hall where House and Foreman were making arrangements with the floor nurse to have Kelly moved.

House excused himself when the phone in his pocket began to vibrate. "House."

"I really prefer our hot tub parties to all this high tech mumbo jumbo, don't you?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "We'd end up permanently pruned."

"You didn't answer my question."

And he wouldn't. "Are you okay?"

"I figured that if they were keeping a mean bastard like you around it must be because you're a brilliant doctor. So I was just hoping you would come back with a diagnosis and a cure."

He laughed aloud, then quickly caught himself. "You in a hurry to get away from me?"

"You!?" she exclaimed knowingly. "Your team is going to be all over me until they figure this out. Which means I'm never going to SEE you."

He didn't have a counter-response for that; if he operated true to form what she said would be true. And for as much as he wished it wasn't, he couldn't imagine himself compromising his reputation. After all, once she was gone he'd have to live with any lapse in judgement.

"That's what I thought," she replied to his silence.

"Wait -"

"Dr. House, it's okay." She sounded sincere. That bothered him, because for him it WASN'T okay. "I appreciate all that your team is doing to figure out what's wrong with me. I'll go along with whatever you think is best."

He sighed, not quite loud enough for her to hear. "I WILL see you later."

And he did. He was there where she was taken to another floor into a small, clear-walled quarantine room that could be strictly climate controlled. At this point there was little they could do but try to draw the most accurate picture possible of the symptoms in the hopes it would point to the cause. Their plan for today was to run a variety of tests involving altering the room temperature to see just how much her surroundings were affecting her condition. From these results they would try to devise a way to keep her stable (and so prevent any further damage to her organs), buying them time to follow their plan to map the functions of her hypothalamus. If they were unable to stabilize her, if her condition was that severe, they'd have no choice but to operate. And brain surgery was something they hoped to avoid until they knew the reason they were doing it.

House couldn't help himself, and made sure he was the one who gave her the news about how her core temperature would be monitored. He was sure to call her "ma'am" just as icing on the cake.

And so she spent the next many hours laying on her side or her stomach, usually alone and being monitored from the outside; no one else was able to handle the heat. They explained a lot as things went on, talking about the importance of the hypothalamus and thermal equilibrium and the significance of her skin temperature and more.

It wasn't that she didn't have the intelligence to understand, but she simply didn't care all that much. It was information that was meant to be used to solve a puzzle that as a person educated in the social sciences rather than the medical sciences she couldn't possibly have all the pieces for, and she had learned a long time ago to leave the details to the professionals and focus on the people. So that's what she did.

From inside the enclosure she could see them always and hear them sometimes; when their interactions weren't too private or likely to scare her they left the microphone on so she wouldn't feel lonely. And so she watched them work, watched them interact, and purposely and purposefully interacted with them to see what they were like. They were always there in pairs; she'd heard them say that the other two were off making contacts with the places she had stopped and stayed during her trip. They'd switch off every few hours for a change of scenery.

Kelly didn't have that luxury. When she wasn't watching or interacting she dozed. She read. She wrote in her journal, which she'd asked to have returned to her. And she counted how many times House had managed to find an excuse to be there. She heard him ask what she perceived to be lame questions and to give redundant instructions. And though she couldn't know for sure that he was there just for her, it made her feel warm inside.

Of course, that could just have been the ridiculous heat she was being exposed to. As she explained to the team when asked, she felt very aware of the room temperature and could feel her own temperature rising and falling even though her body would neither sweat or shiver in response. And so she was very uncomfortable for most of the afternoon and into the early evening as the testing continued.

House entered the room only once, late-afternoon during a period of cold testing. It was the first time she'd seen him in a lab coat, and imagined correctly that he was only wearing it to keep warm.

"Ma'am," he began. His back was to the others, so he had the luxury of answering her rolling eyes with an small but wicked grin. "My team has been working on a timeline of your trip here, looking at the weather for the places you were passing through." He went on to explain that while they couldn't imagine a condition like this had just appeared in the last day, they also couldn't imagine that she had made it all this way without incident. They were looking for clues about how she would have coped with her body's responses to climate changes as she travelled across the country.

"I could try to tell you, but frankly it was a long trip and everything just kind of blends together." She put her hand on her journal. "It would all be in here, though. Didn't you...?" She stopped when he shook his head. "But -"

"I just skimmed through and pulled out the whats and the wheres. I didn't..." He paused and put his hand over the microphone, lowering his voice to a rarely used tone and lowering his eyes to cover his discomfort in using it. "It seemed very personal. I... I didn't want to invade your privacy if I didn't have to."

Kelly sighed and rewarded him with a smile. In actual fact she was relieved; all day she'd been looking at him as someone who'd rifled through her secret thoughts and was treating her based on his reactions to that. And so when he seemed extra friendly and teased her, she'd felt affirmed and validated, and when she'd perceived him clamming up she felt judged. "I appreciate that. A lot. Thank you." And after a moment, she handed him the journal and smiled again when he was unable to completely hide his look of surprise. She carried on matter-of-factly for the benefit of the microphone and to cover her own sudden bashfulness. "If there's anything else you need to know, I may be able to fill in some blanks. But I think you'll find this very detailed."

"Baffled" was the only way she could think to describe him in that moment as he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. As though he wasn't used to having people trust him with things that really mattered beyond life and death, which she realized sadly was probably true. As though it MEANT something to him that he was having trouble defining, let alone dealing with. And it was for that reason that she didn't grab the journal back when she remembered that not long before he'd entered the room she'd put some thoughts to paper about HIM.

Instead she grabbed the sleeve of his lab coat and gave it a tug. She spoke two words to dismiss him, words so quiet he barely heard but that she sensed he had no trouble understanding.

"Bye, Greg."

What flickered in his eyes for the split second before he'd instinctively closed himself off was enough to convince her that she'd made the right decision. And despite the cold she felt warm again.


	7. Later

House learned some important things from her journal, things like how she hadn't slept well her first night on the road and had gotten up twice to soak in the bath. The next day she'd purchased an electric heating pad and later reported that it had helped. She alluded to the benefit of driving alone being that she could keep the windows up and the AC off and no one was there to complain. She talked about missing her water bed.

All of these things and the many more nuggets that may or may not have been directly related were reported to the team, who agreed that it spoke of a pre-existing condition she had developed coping mechanisms for without even realizing it. They talked at length about what had been responsible for the severity of symptoms they'd witnessed through the night, and speculated that the seizures she'd experienced while in their care may have played a part. They talked at length about many things. But not with him.

House had sequestered himself in his office, quickly shooing Thirteen away after making his report, ordering her to tell the others. He still had reading to do.

It was hours before he came up for air. He'd found nothing to tell his team that wouldn't have been redundant, but he'd learned a great many more important things for his trouble. Things about her, certainly, things that troubled him and captivated him. But also things about himself, as she would address a passage directly to Mark and he would think of Wilson and Amber and die a little more inside. Her words were inadvertently uncovering in him a fragility and a guilt that he'd been confronted with after the accident but hadn't had the vocabulary to express or the interest in analyzing. He still lacked the interest, if only to protect himself, but now he had the words.

The last two pages humbled him and scared him. He was familiar with the format, as many times in her journal she'd profiled people she met. But to see HIMSELF laid bare in her neat cursive was almost too much. And yet she wrote with such...it was more than kindness. Was "grace" the word?

He had long closed the journal but was still lost in thought when he received a text.

*Read any good books lately?*

How do you respond to someone after you've seen them for who they really are? And who has seen you in the same way? But it occurred to him that to do what she had done, to give him this journal, must have felt like such a great personal risk to her. He vowed in that moment not to make light of her trust.

*Just finished one. Surprise ending.*

There was a long pause in which he imagined her trying to craft just the right response. He was surprised when all that came back to him was two words:

*Hot tub.*

In a flash he was on the phone with Foreman, who explained that at 10 o'clock they were going to get her settled in the sleep lab so they could monitor her sleep cycle in a temperature-controlled environment and see if they could keep her stable based on what they'd learned in their testing. It was 7:45 now, and they'd released her into the care of an orderly who would accompany her to the physiotherapy wing and keep watch while she soaked in the hot tub. It had been at her request, one they granted readily because it was the safest place for her to be.

House arrived there before Kelly did and found that someone had already laid out towels and prepared the water, which was reading 97 and change, her normal body temperature. He didn't sit but paced.

Not thinking. Just pacing.

It was only a few minutes later that Kelly, dressed in casual street clothes and looking tired and a little stiff, entered the room under her own power, a female orderly in tow. "Dr. House," she greeted demurely, purposely revealing nothing.

He nodded and addressed the orderly in no uncertain terms. "You can go."

"But I was told to -"

"If you're about to tell me that you're more qualified to care for this patient then a department head at this hospital, then maybe I need to have a talk with YOUR department head."

She'd sat under a few such onslaughts from him, and as this was by far the tamest the middle age orderly was less intimidated than annoyed. "Fine then, DOCTOR." She slapped the thermometer she'd been given into his hand. "I guess you know how to use this. I was supposed to have her to the sleep lab by 10." She huffed out of the room without another look at either of them.

And then they were alone.

She was quick to break the silence. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Liar." He was sure that a thought so absurd to him would be equally as absurd to her.

"No, really."

She wasn't looking at him. She walked towards the edge of the hot tub and set down the bag she was carrying, kicking off her sandals. He followed, leaning heavily on his cane. Watching her intently. Seeing her with new eyes.

Still without a look in his direction she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing the top of the bathing suit he had packed for her the night before. It was two piece, the top cropped to leave most of her well toned stomach exposed. Her pants came off just as quickly, and she slipped into the water before acknowledging him again. "You coming in?" she asked hopefully without really thinking.

He hesitated. "I can't."

She didn't press him, knowing that his reluctance went beyond his desire to protect his personal reputation. Were someone to come in and find ANY male doctor alone in the hot tub with a female patient for no good reason, it would be his professional reputation that was called into question; this went too far, even for him. It helped that she could so easily sense his desire to do the opposite of what he knew was necessary. And she was pleased when, without any verbal suggestion from her, he took it as far as he could by removing his shoes and socks and rolling up his pant legs, choosing a spot less than a foot away from her to sit with his feet and calves dangling in the water.

"How are you feeling?"

"Truthfully? Like I've had something stuck up my rear for most of the day."

That was exactly the right thing for her to say. The tension between them dissolved, and she told him about her day.

He was still quiet, as though there were things he wanted to ask and say about what he had read but he wasn't quite ready or able to yet. That was fine with her; she wasn't ready to have that discussion. Instead, she made the most of this time by trying to draw something out of HIM. "Would you tell me about your leg?" she asked during a lull.

He tensed internally but shrugged as though indifferent, which he most definitely was not. "It's kind of a long story."

"It seems you owe me a long story or two. You know lots about me, but I barely know anything about you."

Ducking his head, his reply had a distinctly sheepish tone. "I'd say you know me pretty well."

He was speaking of her journal, she recognized. It was not lost on her that just the night before he'd insisted the opposite. "Well," she began carefully, not wanting to embarrass him. "I'd like to know you better."

The game began again. And under her probing questions he held nothing back in spite of himself, about his leg, about Stacy. It was so very hard for him to just speak truth without covering how he felt about that truth with sarcasm or by hurting someone. And yet when he tried to lighten the story with his usual wit, she didn't call him on it but it sounded inauthentic to his own ears. So eventually he gave up. It made him a rather poor storyteller in comparison but she didn't seem to care.

He wondered if she might feel threatened by his memory of Stacy, which was assuming a lot about what was developing between then. But if she did feel that way, she wasn't letting on.

Her questions were thorough, and just when he thought he had nothing left to reveal, she asked him, "Does it still hurt?"

"Yes," he answered immediately.

She turned so she could see his face, though he wouldn't look back at her. "I wasn't talking about your leg."

"Neither was I."

He fell silent, and she respected that. He was so far away in his thoughts that it took the beep of the thermometer to rouse him; at least one of them had remembered to monitor her temperature.

"97.8," she announced when she saw his mind had rejoined her. "That means I get to stay. AND that means I get to learn more about you."

She stuck to safe topics this time: What was he like growing up? Why did he become a doctor? What was his condo like? Why did Dr. Cuddy yell at him so much?

And he felt safer. He was able to respond in his usual voice --- ironic, cutting, deprecating and self-deprecating --- and she was just as attentive and engaged as before. And she laughed a lot; real, delighted laughter. It was that more than anything that drove a thought that had been tumbling around in his head to the surface with an abrupt awkwardness that would have made him blush if he'd been inclined to do so.

"So, are we, like, friends now or something?" No, he didn't blush, but he did certainly feel like a world-class tool.

She couldn't help but be a little teasing in her tone, as she was just as shocked as he was to hear something like that come out of his mouth. "'You had me at "vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry"', Greg House. Didn't you notice?"

His grin was embarrassed, but it was still a grin. "That's disappointing. I thought 'I had you at "hello"'; I'm losing my touch."

"I'm pretty sure you didn't SAY hello. And you CERTAINLY didn't have me at 'rectal parasites'." She stood and used her arms to pull herself up out of the water until she was seated next to him, not quite touching. She watched his eyes and was flattered but not threatened to see him take her all in. She'd worked hard over the years to stay in shape, but it had been a long time since she'd noticed someone ELSE noticing. "It seems like I might be here for awhile. If you're offering friendship, I'm taking it."

Sensing that this was delving too far into the sentimental for him to be even remotely comfortable, she waited for his nod and then got to her feet. "I'm going to grab a quick shower. Want to come make sure I don't have a seizure or catch fire or something?" She held out her hand to help him up, and after a moment he took it. Once he was upright she handed him his cane and he walked with her, carrying her backpack over his shoulder as she toweled off.

"Greg?" She assumed they'd just graduated to a first-name basis.

"Hmm?"

"Who's Wilson? I heard Dr. Foreman and Dr. Kutner talking about him today. Talking about the two of you. But I didn't understand."

House sighed. "That's a VERY long story."

"And not a happy one, I gather."

No response.

"A story for later, then?" She took his free hand in her own and gave it a quick squeeze, looking at him expectantly.

He squeezed back. "Later."


	8. Blush

They'd taken the long way to the sleep lab, first visiting her room to hang her bathing suit up to dry and to complete her nighttime routine. With a hospital-issue robe over her hospital-issue gown (House had warned her that the thermometer unpleasantness would be the same that night as it had been during the day, making the gown more convenient than her pajamas), she then followed House to his office where her journal was returned to her possession.

"Do you want to get on the Internet or anything?" Beside the journal in his desk drawer was a bottle of Vicodin. He popped two without thinking, then found himself seeking her eye to see if he'd find judgement there

She was too busy looking around, taking in his surroundings, seeing what more she could learn about him. But there were no pictures and few personal effects to give any clues. She considered his offer to use the Internet, but declined. "What would I do? Update my Facebook status to "Kelly Janes is in the hospital with a mysterious disease"? It's probably better that I not contact anyone until I know what's going on."

House checked his watch and motioned that they should start walking, which they did. "But, doesn't SOMEONE know you're here? Have you called anyone at all?"

"My parents know, though I've downplayed the situation considerably. If I'd told them the whole truth they would have been on the first plane here."

"Can I ask why that's a bad thing?" She hadn't mentioned her parents, and he wasn't sure if that was a sore spot for her.

"It's not a bad thing, not at all." Her expression said it all. "But I've always believed that worry is a waste of the imagination, and if there's nothing they can do..."

"But wouldn't it help you to have someone here? So you won't feel alone?"

"I don't feel alone," she answered immediately. She surprised herself by blushing.

He surprised himself by caring.

They stepped into an elevator and fell silent as they turned to stand on either side of the custodian and his cart. They left him behind three floors later but still had nothing to say.


	9. Dilemma

He didn't consider her stable so House kept his word and stayed at the hospital that night. It was smart of him to turn in soon after he'd seen her safely to the sleep lab, because he was making his way back there long before the sun would rise.

Thirteen was surprised to see him there; obviously Kelly's text had been sent in secret.

He didn't give her the chance to question his presence. "What have you learned?"

"Enough to know we don't know enough." Thirteen sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. She'd been left alone for this shift to monitor the equipment. "In reality, we've come a long way in knowing WHAT is happening, but the WHY is another story. Not to mention the HOW she managed to survive this long. The seizure must have done something; it's the only explanation that fits."

He hummed in agreement. "But you have what you need for now? You can let her sleep?"

"She IS sleeping..." She glanced at the monitors. "Oh."

House followed her into the heated room but stood back by the door as she approached the bed.

"Miss Janes? I can take you off the monitors now." She pulled back the sheet to do so.

"And remove the temperature probe?"

Thirteen chuckled at her obvious excitement. "I suppose. You'll just need to be checked every half hour or so."

Kelly stretched luxuriously when she was finally able to turn onto her back. It was then that she saw him. She was surprised when he approached.

"Ma'am."

She stuck out her tongue at him behind Thirteen's back.

"When did you get the water bed?" He wasted no time. He wasn't sure if he'd solved the problem in his sleep, but the thought was already there when he'd wakened.

"Just after Mark died." She lowered her eyes at the memory. "I was having trouble sleeping and a friend suggested getting a new bed might help... that something new might not feel so empty."

"And you chose the water bed because..." It was Thirteen who'd interjected.

House already knew the answer. "We're idiots. Thirteen, go home. Let this poor woman get some sleep."

"But she needs to be monitored! You know what happened last night. You -"

"I'll take care of it all." Rather than answering her incredulous look with more dismissal, he chose to reassure her. "It's going to be fine; I have an idea and frankly I'm always right." He continued though she scoffed at his ego. "I need everyone fresh because at 9 o'clock we're going to meet and figure out what comes next."

"But -"

"Get out."

Thirteen glanced at the patient to see how she felt about all this, and found her smiling knowingly. "Do you want me to - "

"OUT!"

She heard Kelly laughing as she left the room. Curious and a little concerned, Thirteen sat down in front of the camera monitor and brought the room's microphone to life. But to her surprise, House wasn't on the screen. She looked up and saw him in the doorway. "I was just - "

"Do you have the sleep lab key?"

"Yes."

"Give it to me. Then go home. Now."

If she hadn't been so exhausted she probably wouldn't have let this slide. This was just too strange, and she wasn't sure how she felt about leaving him alone with the patient... on several levels. But he was more stubborn even than she was, so she surrendered under duress and handed him the keys, leaving without another word.

House locked the outer door, shut down the equipment and returned to Kelly, dialing back the heat as he passed the thermostat. She was sitting cross legged on the bed and looking at him expectantly.

"You have my cure, Dr. Brilliant?"

"Nope." Only a thin sheet had been left on the bed for modesty's sake. In the low light, he found a shelf and selected two blankets which he made a great show of unfolding and tucking in.

She waited as long as she could before she exclaimed, exasperated, "Well, WHAT?"

He shook his head. He wasn't being coy; he was proud of his deduction but knew the reality would be a sad one for her. "I think you've had this condition for awhile. A year or more."

"I haven't had the water bed for a year."

"No, you haven't." Wordlessly he got her to lay back and he pulled the blankets over her, but not all the way. He placed an ear thermometer at the head of the bed.

"Greg, spit it out. How is it you're planning to get me through the night?"

He started unbuttoning his shirt.

Her eyes widened. "Is this a modern medical technique I wasn't aware of?"

"Shut up." His half smile was sad, and it both calmed her and frightened her. What wasn't he saying?

In a moment he was left in jeans and a blue T-shirt, barefoot. In the next moment he was lying beside her, his arms wrapped around her.

"Greg..."

"Mark kept you warm."

And there is was. Her confusion left her.

"Before the accident, this is how you slept, isn't it?"

Her back was against his chest, and his voice almost a whisper by her ear. She responded in kind. "Every night. Like I couldn't get close enough."

"I think he was regulating your body temperature with his own. I think he was keeping you alive."

She would cry later. For now it was too much to absorb. For now the arms that were not her husband's but held her with as much tenderness as Mark's ever had were confusing her and comforting her and in her exhaustion she was overloaded with thoughts and emotions and the only words that made sense for her to say in that moment were, "Thank you, Greg."

She felt his body relax against hers. And she slept.

House had no problem staying awake long enough to take her temperature a half hour, then an hour later. As he had hoped, she was fine. He, on the other hand, was less than fine. He was panicked.

Not by her. But by the realization that in the morning his team would ask for his report. Would need to hear his revelation. Would need to hear that she had rested uneventfully and how that was accomplished.

What the hell was he to do?

Her breathing, her heartbeat, the warmth between them, eventually lulled him to sleep in spite of himself. And kept him asleep until his dilemma was solved for him.


	10. Eyes

Kelly awoke when she felt the thermometer in her ear. House awoke when it sounded its result.

Thirteen had been awake for awhile, and when she'd found that Kelly's room was empty she'd procured another key to the sleep lab.

"Is she okay?" After several moments of awkward silence, it was House who was the first to speak. He was already up and wrestling with his shoes.

"Temp is right on target." She had a lot to say, but not in front of the patient. "Kelly, I'll bring you to your room in just a moment. Dr. House, can I speak with you outside?" When he nodded, more uncomfortable than she'd ever seen him, she made a quick exit.

Kelly had guessed what was going through his mind. "Greg..."

"Don't," he said warningly, looking everywhere but at her. "Don't bother."

"Oh, for pity's sake." She was on her feet now, annoyed. "It's baffling to me that you're such a frightened child beneath all of your ridiculous posturing. Look at me, House." He had turned away to button up his shirt, but she got in his face as she continued her tirade. "You did something nice, and people are going to have to know. Rather than being your usual sunny self, why not just tell the truth and let everyone move on. Who cares if they need to adjust their worldview just a tiny bit?"

"You don't understand," he grumbled, truly angered by the whole situation and wanting to get away so he could take it out on Thirteen instead of her.

"Don't I?"

She stared him down until he finally threw up his hands in exasperation. "This is all your fault, you know."

"Don't blame me; if you'd just done your job in the first place, you'd have given me the prescription I came for and let me go die in peace. Now give us a kiss and go face the music." She tapped her cheek authoritatively, and laughed when he rolled his eyes and ignored her.

"And by the way," He began as he stopped at the door and looked back at her sharply.

"Yes?"

"You're looking well rested."

She couldn't imagine how others didn't see it; his face and his voice were almost perpetually cranky, but his eyes gave him away every time. Perhaps they'd just never taken the time to look. "I am. Thanks to you."

He didn't close the door all the way behind him, and so she took up a position out of sight but not out of earshot to enjoy the proceedings.

"For God's sake, she was desperate for some sleep. What did you expect me to do? Call in Taub or some orderly and demand that they hop in the sack with her?"

He wasn't helping himself by offering defense for accusations not made. It only focused her confusion. "You don't have to say anything, House. I get it. I mean, I don't get YOU, but I get what you were doing and why. And obviously it worked."

"I told you I'm always right." Kelly could tell that his voice wasn't as confident as usual. "And yet you're still going to turn all this around on me and make a huge deal out of everything. Aren't you, Dr. Hadley." That was the first time she'd heard him refer to this doctor by anything except a number, which was something she'd yet to have a chance to ask him about.

"People are going to draw their own conclusions. And people will talk."

"People like you."

"Look, none of us are going to doubt your intentions were honorable. Though that's not what you're worried about, is it." Kelly couldn't see her face, but she imagined she smiled then; she could hear it in her voice. "Only YOU would be worried people would get the RIGHT idea. "

There was silence for a moment, and Kelly peeked in to see what was happening. She saw that House was holding Dr. Hadley's arm and standing closer to her than she looked like she was comfortable with.

"You've all obviously grown attached to your glowing perceptions of the evil genius boss completely lacking in human decency and compassion." He leaned even closer and dropped his voice to a gruff whisper. "I'm so. Terribly. Sorry. To disappoint you." A pause. "If you and your little friends feel the need to analyze me, you can apply for a psych rotation and get the hell off my service. Otherwise, do your damn job and let me do mine."

Well, it was a start. He'd admitted his humanity... sort of. And then gone on to disprove his own statement. What was she going to do with this man?

Dr. Hadley was very quiet as she walked Kelly back to her room. Kelly felt like she needed to do SOMETHING to help the situation. "I heard you two arguing."

"We weren't arguing - " Thirteen started to protest.

"You were arguing. Listen, I needed sleep. He did what he had to do, and I'm sensing" - a small lie on her part; she knew it to be fact - "he did it at the risk of his reputation as a hard-ass. But I can promise you there was nothing remotely warm and fuzzy about it" - that was a bigger lie - "and frankly I appreciate that he did the job himself rather than playing pimp and bringing in some random warm body. Because at least I could be sure the bastard wasn't going to try anything."

She worded the last part as a joke, and Thirteen relaxed and laughed with her. She obviously didn't suspect that this was the biggest lie of all.

By the time House had showered and dressed and made his way to the meeting like a death row inmate after his last meal, Thirteen had already reported the overnight success and managed to diffuse the bulk of the team's incredulity. A few quick jokes that he countered with the appropriate quick retorts and then the matter was more or less closed.

He silently cursed Kelly when he felt himself inclined to thank Thirteen for her efforts on his behalf. Not that he ever would, but even the inclination annoyed him.

He experienced a few other foreign inclinations that day as they wrestled with what came next. Like the inclination to be patient and know something conclusively rather than plow ahead with unpleasant procedures that may or may not help but would most certainly make her feel miserable if they didn't.

The day's conclusions turned out in her favour: keep her stable, and spend some time with the MRI doing stimuli testing. The hypothalamus had scanned clean before, but a problem there was the most obvious answer. Really, the only answer.

But at the end of the day there were only questions. Everything had scanned clean again.

The biggest question in House's mind was how his team would choose to deal with the patient's overnight requirements. He purposely stayed out of it, of course, and was in his office playing on his DS when Foreman appeared.

"We need you to sleep with the patient again."

House's eyebrows raised. "I don't think you could afford my fees on your salaries."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "Does that mean you're saying no?"

"Of course I'm saying no." He pretended to keep playing the DS in order to seem nonchalant about the whole thing, but he'd already lost the round. "Why don't you do it?"

"Well, frankly I offered; we all did. Though we felt pretty damn strange about doing it, but figured we'd be torturing her to put her through what happened the other night if we didn't have to. She declined. Rather forcibly. And I don't blame her, I guess."

"Why don't you bring in a water bed? That seems to have done the trick." Even he found his disinterested tone believable.

"We may very well have to. But it seems unlikely we could arrange that tonight."

House put down his game. "Come on, Foreman. You've done the tests.. Do it with room temp control. Do it with heating pads or ice or whatever the hell you need."

"Dr. House, with all due respect," - Foreman's tone was less than believable - "we're tired. We're tired and I for one would like to get a substantial amount of sleep because we're probably going to have to cut into that girl's brain in the next day or so and my hands shake less when I haven't been up all night trying to keep a patient from dying of hypothermia in her bed."

"Taub's a plastic surgeon. Unless he's worried about the scar you'll leave -"

"I already sent everyone else home. Besides, ever heard of the path of least resistance?"

House stood and started walking, followed by Foreman. "She already said no."

"You convinced her last night. And it worked. Why ruin a good thing?"

"Are you asking me to seduce her? Because that's really not my style."

They were in the elevator now, and the two nurses that shared the car were openly intrigued by their conversation.

"You obviously know how to get what you want from her. Unless you gave her a reason -"

"Enough. Go home. The nurses can deal with it; I'll tell them what to do."

"The nurses have enough to do."

"The nurses will do what I tell them. Go home."

The elevator opened and House walked out, using his cane to keep Foreman from exiting with him.

Foreman shook his head and sighed. "I'll be back tomorrow with steady hands. Please don't kill her before I can cut her open."

House arrived at Kelly's room a moment later, and found her arguing with a nurse about the rectal probe.

"That won't be necessary," House piped up. "She'll be staying in the sleep lab again tonight."

The nurse, whose shift was almost over anyway, made a hasty retreat, glad to be free of both of them.

He didn't approach her, but just tossed the key onto her bed. "I found my jeans to be rather chafing last night. Think you can manage to not spontaneously combust if I leave you on your own for a bit while I find something else to wear?"

She shrugged, and in that moment his weren't the only eyes giving things away. "I'll do my best, but there are no guarantees. You should probably hurry."

He didn't need to be told twice.


	11. Guilty

Kelly was just getting out of the shower when House texted her.

x- Change of plans -- new patient. Meet me. -x

He'd told her during one of their talks that he often only had one patient at a time. She figured if her case was in danger of being put on the back burner she may as well size up the competition.

x- Getting dressed. When/where? -x

She didn't take the time to dry her hair, but found herself preening in front of the mirror a little more than usual. That seemed healthy to her, so she didn't allow herself to overanalyze just who she was preening for.

The competition was much smaller than expected; not in severity of condition but in stature. It was also much louder than expected. One nurse was trying to restrain the screaming child while another was unsuccessfully attempting to get blood. House was no where to be seen.

"Is this Dr. House's patient?" she called over the pandemonium.

It was the child's mother, who Kelly could see was considerably younger than herself, that answered. "Yes; do you work with him? Can you tell me what's wrong with my baby!?" The young woman --- girl, really --- was already crying, and for a moment Kelly was transported back in her memory to a time when she'd been asked the same question by one of the girls at the shelter who'd just given birth. That time, Kelly had the answer; the baby had been stillborn.

She returned to the present and was filled with compassion. "What's your name, honey?"

"Jen," she sniffed.

"Jen, I'm Kelly, and I'm a friend of Dr. House. He's a great man with a great team, and they're going to do everything they can to figure this out. Okay? Now is there someone I can call for you?"

The girl shook her head, no.

House appeared then, and motioned to her from just outside the room.

"I'll be right back." She closed the door behind her. "Hi, Greg."

"I've called Kutner back in, but it looks like I'm going to be awhile. If you want, you can wander around and try to find a cute orderly to cuddle up with."

"I'd much prefer a cute doctor, thanks."

"Snob." He winked at her. "I'll call up to your floor nurses and they'll figure something out."

"Listen, Greg, it's early yet, and since I actually got some sleep last night I've got a few hours left in me. Why don't you let me help you? I obviously have some experience with teen mothers."

House liked the idea of having her around, and not just to deal with the emotional young woman who would no doubt get in his way. But still he wavered. "You need to be monitored. It doesn't generally help a family's confidence in the medical staff when other patients are dropping dead right in front of them."

She scoffed. "I know I don't have "M.D." on my stationary, so you'll probably be surprised to know that I'm quite adept at operating a thermometer. In fact," she produced one with a flourish, "I have one right here in my pocket for this very occasion." Then she smiled sweetly at him and led the way back into the room.

It turned out to be a wonderful arrangement. Kelly was in her element, easily developing a rapport with the girl and serving as a buffer between her and House, who was then freed up to focus on the son. She learned that Jen had been living in different women's shelters since she'd run away, not because of abuse or neglect, but because of the ordeal that had taken place when her parents had learned of her pregnancy. She hadn't been in contact with them since.

Kelly talked with her into the night, long after her son had been stabilized and taken for testing and eventually fallen asleep. And in the end she had held the girl's hand when she called her mother, and was there when 45 minutes later both of her parents appeared in the waiting area and tearfully welcomed her back to their family.

Kelly was exhausted --- and nearly two degrees colder than she should have been --- when she made her way to House's office. She found Kutner working behind his desk and House asleep on the couch, a file open on his chest.

"He just nodded off," Kutner explained quietly. "How is the boy's mother?"

"I convinced her to call her parents; they're with her now." She carefully removed the file from the sleeping House and closed it, setting it aside. "She'll be fine. And the boy?"

"We've got a few theories. At this point it's a waiting game to see which pan out." He came around the desk and did a nonchalant exam, checking her colour and touching her arms and forehead. "You're feeling cooler than I'd like. Let's take your temperature."

"I just did. Whatever your plan is to keep me alive through the night, this would probably be a good time to get started."

Kutner glanced at House, then back at her. "Umm... Okay. Uh, well I think Dr. Foreman... Ummm..."

She was too tired to play dumb or act coy, so she let him off the hook, smiling. "I don't want to sleep with you, Dr. Kutner, if that's what you're trying to ask. No offense, of course; I'm sure you're a really nice guy. But I imagine you're going to be busy with your new patient."

Kutner smiled too, sheepishly, and said, "Maybe I'll wake Dr. House and see what he thinks we should do."

"Good idea, but you'd better let me do it. I suspect he's even more of a bear than usual when you wake him up, and as a patient I've got the Hippocratic Oath on my side."

She could see that he was both amused and bemused, and utterly unsure of the right thing for him to do in this situation. Her confidence was winning him over but he also knew his role and wasn't sure he could justify leaving House alone to deal with any patient, let alone one like her. "Um..."

"Tick tick, Dr. Kutner. I'm about to turn into a block of ice here."

"I... Uh... Well, okay then." He gathered up some files and loose papers and tucked them under his arm. "I'll just, uh..."

"I'm sure Dr. House will page you if we run into any trouble. You just worry about the little boy."

"Uh, right."

When House heard the door close, he opened one eye and said, "I think he has a crush on you."

"And he IS a cute doctor. I should have bedded him down while I had the chance." She wasn't sure if it was her health or the late hour, but she could feel herself starting to falter.

He struggled to his feet, reaching into the pocket of her sweater and finding the thermometer. "You think he's cute?" He waited a moment for the beep and then looked at it with a frown. "I pictured you going for someone taller." He pocketed the thermometer himself and rubbed her arms through the heavy fabric to warm her, obviously concerned and formulating a plan.

"Oh really? How tall?"

"I don't know." He held his hand just at the crown of his head. "Say, this tall?" She laughed weakly, and he leaned past her to grab his cane where it stood against the wall. "You shouldn't have let it go this far. Can you walk? Should I get you a wheelchair? Because I'm not going to be able to carry you." He led her toward the door, hefting his knapsack to his shoulder as he passed by it.

"Depends on how far we need to walk."

"There's a shower room on this floor."

"I just showered." She could hear herself whining but was beyond the point of being able to care.

But there was no other option that the two of them could handle on their own, and after the adventures of the evening Kelly was looking forward to some quiet time apart from a lot of medical hustle and bustle. She opted for a wheelchair so at least she could shower in the privacy of her own room. All the floor nurses must have been occupied because they saw no one when they arrived.

She insisted on refusing his help, and he insisted on refusing to be refused. It turned out to be the right decision, because while she was struggling to get undressed she lost her footing and would have hit her head had he not been there to catch her. At that point he resolved to ignore her protests and took over, stripping her down to her bra and underwear and setting her under the warm water, standing just inside the large shower stall until he could see her visibly revive. Only then did he make a concession for her modesty and close the curtain with him on the outside.

His own fatigue was taking over, and understandably so; it was well after midnight. He dug through his backpack to find his toothbrush, which he used. Then he weighed some pros and cons before changing into the shorts and tee shirt he had packed. The sleep lab had a bigger bed, but getting her there would require more energy than either of them had. They would stay in her room that night.

Making sure she was okay, he left her alone in the bathroom and entered the main room, locking the door and closing the blinds. The nurses had been told that the patient was in the sleep lab, so no one would think to check in. He climbed into her bed to wait.

15 minutes later she emerged dressed and dry except for her hair which she was attacking with a towel. Not questioning his decision to stay here, she pulled back the covers. "Oh." His shorts had ridden up so she could see the scarring on his thigh. Self consciously he moved to cover himself, but she stopped him. "No, let me see." Her hand, now warm from the heat of the shower, traced the contours of the deformed tissue.

He met her eye, expecting pity but not finding it. Instead he saw what he could only interpret as acceptance. He rested his hand over hers, squeezing gratefully. "Ready for bed?"

This night they assumed a posture that was markedly more intimate than the night before. He remained on his back and she was tucked into his side, her head under his chin and her hand over his heart.

After a few minutes of quiet, he said softly, "Thanks for tonight."

"I was glad to be there." She yawned. "I'm just happy I was able to help that poor girl. I hope her son will be alright."

"He will. And so will you. I'm VERY good at what I do."

"I'll believe THAT when I see it..." And before she could say anything more, she was asleep.

House was blissfully drifting off himself when the thought of his best friend entered his mind unbidden. And he felt guilty. Guilty that he wasn't alone when he knew that Wilson's bed must seem so empty. Guilty because he had been able to spill his guts to a total stranger and still go far beyond looking her in the eye ---she sighed in her sleep and he smiled in spite of himself --- when he couldn't even bring himself to stand in the same room with the man who'd stood by him for years and see what happens after "I'm sorry".

He felt guilty, but he slept nonetheless.


	12. Cuddy

House wasn't the only one dealing with feelings of guilt. When Kelly awoke warm and content in the arms of a man that was not her husband, she suddenly found herself with an awful lot to think about.

She feigned sleep when he rose from the bed, checking her temperature as he did so. As soon as she knew he was gone, she checked it herself. Normal.

It was just after 8, and she felt as though she could sleep all day but knew that to try would be a bad idea; Kutner had explained it, about the way the body's temperature changes in sleep and how during REM it didn't regulate as well even in a normal body. It was okay that the science largely eluded her, because it many ways it was eluding them as well.

She skipped the shower, knowing she'd probably end up in one against her will at some point during the day anyway. No one had warned her about what sorts of tests or procedures she'd be facing that day, so she figured she may as well get dressed.

Clothes, hair, makeup. If she kept the hospital bracelet under the sleeve of her sweater, it was just a normal day.

Dr. Foreman was first to arrive. She checked her temperature pre-emptively and handed him the thermometer. When he looked at her chart and noticed there was nothing reported for the night, he had to ask. Her only response: "Do you really want to know?"

Smiling, he shook his head and let it drop.

"So, can I eat today, or do I need to be ready for some slicing and dicing?"

"I haven't booked you in for today. I'd really like to know more before we have to resort to surgery, and since we've found ways to keep you stable, it definitely wouldn't hurt to hold off. I'd like to talk to Dr. House about something. We'll probably have a sit down with you later today."

She was largely unconcerned. "But I can eat?"

He chuckled. "Yes, you can eat. You took your thyroid medication, right?"

She nodded. "It's been almost an hour."

"Good." He looked up. "Speak of the devil."

Breakfast had arrived. The woman who delivered it received a gracious "thank you" from Kelly, but as soon as she was gone, a wrinked nose preceeded the question, "Do I have to eat THAT?"

Foreman laughed aloud at her theatrics. "There's no evidence that your diet has anything to do with your condition, so you can feel free to eat whatever you'd like. Just make sure you DO eat."

She saluted good naturedly and held up the thermometer. "Every 20 minutes, and I'll tell a nurse if there's any change." Then she was headed for her purse. "So where's the cafeteria?"

He told her. "You'd better not wander too far. We need to know where to find you in case we need you."

"Dr. House has my cell phone number; you can just text me and I'll come a-running." And she had left the room before it occurred to Foreman to question why on earth House would have her cell phone number.

The cafeteria was just opening when she arrived, and was empty of anyone she recognized except for a dark haired woman at a corner table nursing a cup of coffee while she read a file. Kelly was curious about this woman, so breakfast tray in hand she walked that way.

"It's Dr. Cuddy, isn't it? Mind if I join you?"

Whether or not she did mind, Cuddy was characteristically polite. "Not at all -- please. You look like you're feeling much better than the last time I saw you, Ms. Janes."

"Call me Kelly, please." And she started on her strawberry yogurt. "You'll need to excuse me for saying so, but I'm afraid patient meals aren't quite my cup of tea, especially the breakfasts. Dr. Foreman was kind enough to permit me to forage for my own food this morning."

"Well, I'm rather glad you were forced to "hunt and gather" today, because I was hoping I might get a chance to speak with you."

"Oh, really? What about?"

Cuddy paused. She'd only gotten to the point of deciding to talk to her; she'd yet to form an adequate cover story as to WHY. "Well... you're from far away, and here with a bit of a mysterious condition receiving some... unconventional treatments. I guess I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were doing, make sure you were satisfied with the quality of care you've been receiving. And with the team administering it, of course. That sort of thing."

Kelly chewed her toast longer than necessary as she examined the woman, weighing how tactful she needed to be to still "win friends and influence people" in this situation. She surmised from House's assessment that the direct approach might be effective.

"Dr. Cuddy, is there something you're not saying?"

Cuddy's expression didn't change, but her eyes revealed she'd been found out. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'll have to excuse me. In my line of work you develop great skill and great appreciation for cutting through the crap." Her smile and friendly tone offset her statement. "Are you concerned about my quality of care? Is there something I should know?"

Caught in her fib, Cuddy felt compelled to tell the truth, though she was determined to keep the details vague. "Oh, no, nothing for you to be concerned about. The fact is that a few of our staff experienced a few personal events recently, and I'm just..." She looked for the words.

"You're wanting to find out about Dr. House, am I right?"

Cuddy was at a bit of a loss. "Are you just incredibly perceptive, or is there something *I* need to know?"

Kelly laughed. "Work with troubled teens for as many years as I have, and you'll learn to ferret out the heart of issues pretty quickly. It's a big time saver." A mouthful of hot cereal later, she added, "You can feel free to level with me. I promise I don't have a lawyer on retainer."

Cuddy shrugged and sighed, bemused. "I'll keep that in mind."

It still took a few minutes for Kelly to draw it out of her. But finally: "I've had some reports that Dr. House has been acting... a bit irratically."

"In what way?"

"Nothing bad. Just... out of character... for him."

The picture clarified, and Kelly had to fight to keep from smiling. "I see." She lost the fight. "Dr. Cuddy, would I be right in assuming you're concerned because House has been acting NICELY?"

"I know that must sound strange..."

"A little. Well, I'm not sure what it is you're looking for me to say, but I can assure you that Dr. House has treated me in a manner that I would consider completely appropriate for his station, and that I have no complaints at all about the care I've received from him." Kelly could tell that this in itself was contrary to House's characteristic brand of doctor-patient interaction, which amused her to no end. But she didn't offer any more, and Cuddy didn't seem to know how to ask for me. She simply thanked her, wished her well, and went on her way.

Kelly left her breakfast unfinished and checked her temperature. Cooling down just slightly, probably because of the air conditioning. Nothing to worry about yet, but it would be irresponsible not to report in. After all.

x- Good morning, sunshine. Just had a chat with your Dr. Cuddy about what a nice fella you've been. Best harrass a nurse or tell off a patient before she calls for a psych consult. -x

The responding text came quickly, and made her laugh out loud:

x- Rectal. Probe. Thermometer. -x

x- You always say the sweetest things. Lunch? -x

x- K. Now leave me alone. Lives to save etc. -x

x- Just don't forget to save MINE. -x

x- On it. -x

"Yeah, you'd better be," she mumbled to herself, and she left in search of something to fill her time until noon. Anything to distract her from considering why she'd just scheduled a lunch date with the man who less than two hours before had made her feel unfaithful to her husband's memory. Anything to keep her from dwelling on the fact that she couldn't wait to see him again.


	13. Cameron

Kelly saw House BEFORE lunch when she went to check on Jen and her son. He wasn't in the patient's room ---apparently she was still the only one rating that kind of treatment --- but outside of it, arguing in the low tones with Dr. Cuddy.

She pretended to ignore them and stood in the doorway of her destination as Foreman and Taub spoke to Jen and her parents by the boy's bedside. Jen hadn't seen her yet, and Kelly didn't want to intrude.

A minute later she felt him behind her, his chest resting lightly against her back.

"Exactly what did you say to Cuddy?" he hissed into her ear.

"Why?"

"Because after she met with you she hunted me down and wanted to know if I was taking anti-depressants. And when I told her I wasn't, she said she wanted me to take a DRUG test."

It was difficult for her to keep a straight face, but somehow she managed. "All I said is that you've treated me appropriately for your station and I'm happy with the quality of care. I wasn't aware those were symptoms of drug use."

Jen noticed her then and waved her inside. Kelly left House without another word and he didn't try to follow.

Later, at their table in the corner of the cafeteria, they laughed aloud about it. Laughed loudly enough that Cameron heard and let her curiousity get the better of her.

"I see you're feeling better. Have you been discharged already?"

"Sadly, no," Kelly replied, adjusting her sleeve to reveal her hospital bracelet before motioning for Cameron to join them. "I'm afraid Dr. Drug-Addict here has yet to solve the mystery." She went on to tell her what had happened, and Cameron laughed, too.

"Are you going to take the test?"

House scoffed at her question. "Of course not."

"I think it's in your contract that you have to."

"There's a lot of things in my contract."

"Yeah. True enough."

House didn't say a lot after that, and anything he DID interject was said in a way that Cameron was used to: abrasively, sarcastically, sharply. And yet the laughter had betrayed him. She knew intuitively that something had changed.

Later she found herself talking to Cuddy, who had sought her out in the hopes that she might have some special insight. "I'm worried about House."

Cameron was able to understand her alarm, but didn't share it. "I thought he seemed to be doing better. Better than I've seen him since the accident."

"He's acting bizarre. In anyone else, it might seem like a relief, but I don't like the idea of him behaving this irradically. He might be a bastard, but at least he's always been consistent about it. Now..."

"Now he seems different."

"Yes."

"And you're afraid... what? That he's cracking up after what happened?"

"Maybe. Or else he's on something. I just know that he was in a severe funk, and now suddenly he's not... and then some. And it isn't because he's reconciled with Wilson; they've still barely spoken."

"What about his patient? This woman with the temperature dysregulation?"

Cuddy was quick to squash that theory. "What about her? She's only been here for two days. I can't see anyone affecting him that much, even if he did have a thing for her. It's all just so strange."

After her lunch with them, not to mention the stories she'd heard from House's team, Cameron was ready to disagree. "I don't think there's anything strange about it. She's young, she's attractive, she can handle him. And he's lonely; he misses Wilson. He's not going to go to any of us to fill the void, but he needs SOMEONE to help him process all the guilt he must be feeling, or at least distract him from it. I think it all makes perfect sense."

Cuddy got called away then, leaving Cameron alone in her office to consider that for all of her trying, she's never been able to get House to laugh like that.


	14. Salute

House sent her for a long soak in the hot tub to warm her up before summoning her to his office with a text, giving her a half hour to get dried off and presentable.

When she arrived, they were not alone. Wordlessly he ushered her into the ajoining room where Kutner, Foreman and Thirteen were assembled. He took a chair in the corner and pulled out his DS as Kutner invited her to join them at the table.

"Where's Dr. Taub?" she asked.

"He's in the lab working on our other case," Kutner told her. "We got a lucky break when you convinced the boy's mother to call her parents. It turns out her father has the same thing as the boy."

"Because her father was able to describe his own symptoms, we were able to diagnose a mild form of a rare genetic disorder," Foreman supplied. "The patient has a much more severe case, but because we caught it early, we're confident that gene therapy will be able to help him."

"How did you find the condition in Jen's father?"

Thirteen spoke up. "When we talked to him to get a family history, he told us about his own symptoms that it turns out had been misdiagnosed; House recognised the symptoms and had him tested."

"So you were able to help two people today. That's great." And she felt glad that she could help with that. However... "Care to make it three?"

"That's why you're here." Foreman went on to explain that her test results were saying one thing and her condition was screaming another. They wanted to focus in on a few things from her history and see if they couldn't filter out some of the ambiguity.

"Dammit," House muttered.

Everyone looked at him.

"My batteries died. Carry on." And he limped out of the room.

"Sorry about that." Apparently Foreman was the diplomat in the group. "You'll have to excuse him."

"Not a problem. So, where do we start?"

When House returned a few minutes later with fresh batteries, the inquisition was already under way. And the first argument had errupted between Kutner and Thirteen, which House quickly settled. "If it could be a symptom, it goes on the board. Fight about it later."

The nature of the argument had been that her sadness might actually be clinical depression. She'd been sad before her husband's death, too, but had attributed it to her line of work, where the girls she poured her life into often made terrible choices. She'd dealt with two suicides on her watch where she'd discovered the bodies. She had a right to be sad.

But it went on the board, and House went back to his game.

Until he decided that the issue they seemed to be skirting around needed to be brought up. "What about sex?"

"Are you offering, or asking me a question?" she shot back before she could catch herself.

The room got quiet as everyone held their breath for his response, but House didn't even look up from his game. "Are you interested?"

"I think what Dr. House is getting at is that libido is controlled by the same part of the brain as temperature and mood," Foreman cut in, diplomatic again with a distinct edge of "shut up, House" in his voice.

Kelly understood why they would feel uncomfortable asking about this, and so she supplied them with what they were looking for preemptively. "My husband and I weren't having sex very often in the last couple of years before he died. My decision. I finally talked to my doctor about it, near the end, and he thought it might just be from my birth control. Since neither of us wanted kids, Mark decided to get a vasectomy so I could go off the pill. The procedure was already scheduled when the accident happened."

"What about since the accident?" House again. "You're not on the pill anymore."

"Dr. House, my husband died less than 9 months ago. YOU experience that kind of loss and then tell me how inclined YOU are to sleep with someone else."

All eyes were on her, including the offender's; House had paused his game and looked up at her. His face was stoic. "Fair enough." A beat. "But it still goes on the board."

She nodded, and the moment passed. On to safer subjects. Kutner drew attention to the fact that she was in shape; he was curious as to how she got that way without noticing that she didn't sweat.

"My workouts involved Yoga and very low impact strength training in a highly air conditioned home gym. If I ever thought about it, which I don't think I did, I probably would have just assumed I wasn't getting hot enough to sweat." They went on to ascertain that this part of her condition wasn't congenital. "I can remember sweating like a pig during college volleyball."

Once she moved into the shelter with the girls, she had very little time to breathe. She spent almost all of her time in the home (which was strictly climate controlled) or in the car driving them to activities.

"Is there a time you remember noticing that you were overheating when you were outside?"

"Dr. Hadley, I live in Fort Bragg, California. Everyone's overheated there. That's why I prefer to stay indoors."

More questions, more answers. Then House again contributed. "What about appetite?"

"I eat."

"I know you EAT. But do you WANT to eat?"

"Are you asking me to dinner, or do you need a snack break?" Before anyone could reply she gave her answer. "I haven't had much of an appetite since Mark died, but thankfully I really like the taste of food, so it's balanced out."

"On the board." House said without looking up again. "Ask her about her memory."

Foreman spoke up. "I know where you're going with this, but her serotonin levels are fine."

"Memory."

Forman smiled a fake smile and turned to her. "How's your memory?"

"Are we talking long-term or short-term?"

"Let's say both."

"I guess it's okay. I mean, things are kind of a blur since Mark passed away, but I think that's..." She saw House open his mouth and added before he could, "...going on the board."

"You wrote down a ridiculous amount of detail in your journal," House reminded her, discarding his DS and getting to his feet.

"I wanted to be thorough," she challenged.

"You wanted to remember," he corrected, limping over to the board. "Temperature, appetite, memory, libido, mood, sleep disturbance. What are we missing?"

"Anger and aggression," Kutner supplied.

All eyes returned to Kelly, who shrugged. "Sorry, can't help you on that one."

"If she hasn't popped House yet, I'd have to agree," Kutner said to Thirteen under his breath. Foreman heard and shot them a look. Kelly heard and laughed.

House didn't hear, and didn't care. "I'll take 6 out of 8. So if her serotonin levels are normal, what are the other options?"

"Nerve damage," Foreman said with authority. "The serotonin is being produced and interacting with the nerve end, but it's either not firing or firing but being blocked."

"I still say we can only really count temperature regulation as an actual symptom," Kutner argued. "The rest are sketchy at best to begin with, and could be easily attributed to outside factors."

"Thirteen, would you like to vote?"

"I'm with Kutner."

"No!" House grabbed his heart theatrically. "I HATE it when Foreman is right!" Then he dropped back to deadpan. "Figure it out." As the others stood and began to gather their things, House pointed a finger at Kelly. "You. Front and center."

She came to stand at attention in front of him, giving him a mock salute.

He held out his hand. "Thermometer."

"Yes, sir," she said, slapping it into his palm as though it were a scalpel.

After the beep, House addressed Thirteen. "She's going to need a warm-up."

"30 seconds in the microwave should do it," Kelly quipped. Then her volume dropped so only he could hear her. "The answer is 'yes', by the way, to your dinner invitation."

His eyes narrowed until he remembered. Then his expression softened slightly and he nodded. "Hit the showers."

"Yes, sir," she said again with a quiet tone and a grin that made his eyes seem to shine a little brighter. Another jaunty salute, and she followed Thirteen out of the room.


	15. Remorse

House felt remorse more often than anyone could have guessed, but generally it was only a flicker that was easily brushed away and forever banished.

There were some exceptions: Remorse over hurting Stacy still plagued him from time to time. Remorse over being even indirectly responsible for the death of his best friend's girlfriend was so strong he felt like it would never leave him.

Now he felt remorse for having pushed too hard. That almost never happened; his whole personality and reputation were based on him taking things too far and not caring in the least. Yet today he was bothered by it, and he had the overwhelming urge to make it right.

He caught up with her in the Diagnostic Imaging wing, where she was being subjected to a variety of full body scans. When he entered a viewing room he expected to find part of his team but found only a technician. "Kelly Janes?"

The technician nodded. "Just finishing up. You here for the results?"

"No. I need to talk to the patient."

"Give me another minute." He activated the microphone. "Ma'am? Hold still, please; we're almost done."

"Don't call her 'ma'am'," House said quietly.

Too quietly. "Pardon?"

"Ah... nothing."

And a minute later, Kelly was surprised to see House standing there when the machine expelled her. "Greg?"

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and immediately felt both embarrassed and relieved to have said it.

She slipped on a robe and got to her feet. Glancing to the right, she saw the technician hunched over the computer through the tinted glass. "Let's take a walk."

In the hallway, she leaned against the wall. "Talk to me. What are you sorry for?"

He distanced himself from her, standing by the opposite wall, looking at the floor between them. "I... um... I said some things that... well..."

"Oh, Greg." She stopped herself from approaching him, afraid it might make him feel more uncomfortable than he already obviously was. "You were just doing your job and being you. I knew that. I didn't take any offense."

"I just felt..." Who was he kidding. He had no idea how to talk about his feelings.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she assured him. "But now that I know you have it in you, you'll have no excuse for the next time I DO deserve an apology."

"Damn. I KNEW this was a dangerous precedent to be setting."

House now felt free of remorse and also free of embarrassment. And Kelly felt free to cross the hallway and take a place next to him, leaning casually against the wall, their arms touching.

"Hey, can you spring me for dinner?" she asked. "I mean, this is a nice place you have here and all, but I kind of miss the outside world."

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "You're such a lightweight. You can't have cabin fever already."

"Just a hint. Best to nip it in the bud early, I'd say." She looked at him hopefully.

He checked his watch. "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

She shrugged. "Aren't YOU supposed to know?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" His voice dropped to a conspirital whisper. "I don't actually do any WORK around here."

Kelly tapped her nose twice. "Got it. Well, if I'm setting my own schedule, I'll be ready to eat in an hour or so. Think that's enough time for you to stage a jail break?"

Kutner arrived then to collect her, and was obviously more surprised to see House than she had been. "Is something wrong?"

"No," House said. And that was all he said, despite Kutner's expectant pause.

"...Alright then." He addressed Kelly instead. "Ready to go?"

"Sure. Where are we going?"

"Back to your room. We're all done for today."

"Lead on, Dr. Kutner." She looped her arm through his and left House behind, but not before she looked back at him and mouthed "one hour?" and received his answering nod.

Kelly Janes had a dinner date. And she felt no remorse.


	16. Medicine

"So, were you intensely unpopular growing up?" House had appeared in her room with two minutes to spare and launched in on his peculiar line of questioning without any greeting or preamble.

"I beg your pardon?" Kelly asked, or tried to ask but was largely unintelligible. She spit the toothpaste out of her mouth and repeated herself.

He was standing in the open doorway of her bathroom with a file in his hand. "Were you overweight? A nerd, maybe? Did you have those unfortunate poofy bangs?"

"Greg, I was raised in the 80's. Everyone had poofy bangs." She returned her toothbrush to its holder and shooed him into the main room, following behind him and looking for her shoes. "Where are you going with this? What are you looking at?"

"What I'm looking at are your scan results, which I greased a radiologist to have rushed to me, I might add. What they're tell me is that you must have been the type to get beat up a whole lot as a kid."

Kelly laughed. "Skiing injuries. My parents are pretty well off, so my brother and I went on a LOT of ski trips and were shipped to ski camps and just generally obsessed."

"Well, you obviously weren't very good at it."

"Actually, I was. But when I first tried my hand at the ski jump, I got hooked. And no matter how good you get, you're guaranteed to get hurt on your way there. I was always twisting or spraining or dislocating SOMETHING. It was a miracle I only broke one bone in my whole skiing career."

"Only one?" He picked up her chart from the end of the bed to examine it.

"Right. My leg, when I was 11. I told Dr. Foreman about it."

"Yeah, I see that here, but what about your rib?"

Kelly was confused. "What about it?"

"I'm seeing evidence of a fracture that didn't heal properly and shifted, causing damage and scarring in the surrounding tissue."

She immediately knew what he was talking about. "Oh, wow. I didn't think I had broken anything, though it certainly hurt a lot. It happened a little less than a year before Mark died --- my parents had sent us on a two week vacation in Vermont, and only a few days after we'd arrived... Well, let's just say before that I'd never met a chair lift I didn't like."

"You fell off the chair lift?" He raised an eyebrow.

She shot him a venomous look. "I know, I know. I'm such a pro, right? And the truth is that I didn't quite make it ON the lift. After my ego recovered, it was still a nice vacation, but I haven't skied since that day."

"And it didn't occur to you to mentioned that you'd had this experience?"

"Other than it being embarrassing, I didn't think it would be relevant. So does this mean you think it's important?"

"Scar tissue could be compressing the nerves."

"And that could cause...this?"

"Your serotonin levels are fine, which means that the messages the serotonin is trying to send aren't making it from point A to point B. The scar tissue is really close to the spine."

"Wouldn't I know? I had pain there for quite some time after the...incident, but I just figured it was bruised. And it doesn't hurt any more."

"Pinched nerves usually lead to referred pain somewhere else in the body."

"I get lots of lower back pain, like I told your team, but nothing severe and certainly nothing I ever worried about. I assumed it was caused by having terrible posture."

Kutner arrived then, and was once again surprised to find House. He addressed Kelly. "Has Dr. House explained your results?"

"He's working on it." Kelly quickly summarized what she'd just told House. "Frankly I'm more interested in knowing what we do now."

"I'd like to do a quick exam, if that's okay," Kutner told her. "My specialty is sports medicine, so I've dealt with a lot of these kinds of injuries."

To keep up appearances, though they'd already been compromised, House excused himself wordlessly. However he had nothing to do, so he sat down behind the floor nurses' desk and leafed through the phone book. By the time Kutner appeared in front of him, he'd formed a plan. "Well?"

"If I was just treating the back, I'd say it could be dealt with non-surgically. But I don't think we have any choice. I called up to check the board on my way here, and they'd just cancelled an elective for tomorrow morning at 9:30; I had them hold the spot for me. I'll get her scheduled in. In the meantime, she's asking for a pass to get out for a few hours. You okay with that?"

House waved his hand dismissively as if he couldn't care less. "What are you doing with her tonight?"

"Well, I figured I'd just tell the nurses to do whatever they did last night. I didn't see anything on her chart, so obviously it worked."

"Right." He was careful to speak nonchalantly. "I'll tell the first person I see. You get things scheduled and then send everyone home."

Kutner shrugged. "You're the boss."

Just a moment after Kutner had left, Kelly was beside him. "Why did you ask Kutner about getting out tonight? Didn't you trust me to make it happen?"

"Of course. I just figured you were planning to sneak me out" - she knew by looking at him that she was right - "and every once in awhile I like to switch it up by doing things by the book." She glanced over his shoulder at the phone book still open in front of him. "So, what sort of adventures have you dreamt up for us?"

They were interrupted by a nurse who was annoyed by House's presence at her work station. They arranged for Kelly to have "the night off", and she was signing the necessary document when she pressed him again for details. "Well?"

"How do you feel about motorcycles?" he asked vaguely as they set off down the hall.

"I've never eaten one," she quipped with a smile. "But if you like them..."

"Smart ass," he muttered.

And their evening began.


	17. Want

House had made the choice early on in his encounters with Kelly to not think too much. Which was good, because if he WERE to think about it, he would have thought about how easy it was to be with her, and about how he felt something when her arms were wrapped around his waist (he was glad now he'd gone home to switch vehicles) and she laughed aloud as the motorbike pulled out into traffic. And thinking would have led to annoyance or fear or self-judgement, and he would have been too busy building his own walls to help tear hers down.

He'd found a restaurant with an outdoor patio in order to keep her out of air conditioning and hopefully extend their evening. "Eat up while you can," he told her as they looked over the menu. "No food after eight."

"My surgery's early, though. It won't be so bad."

"Unless it gets pushed back."

The waiter took their order, and when he asked about the cheque House was quick to say, "One bill."

Kelly said nothing, but smiled gratefully.

The food was good. They didn't talk a lot to one another while they ate, but it was okay because there was lots to see around them and Kelly loved to people-watch. She even engaged the couple at the next table in conversation when she overheard them mention California, which it turned out they were originally from. By the end of the meal they exchanged email addresses and warm handshakes.

As they were walking back to his bike, House made a comment about her ability to befriend anyone. He said it neutrally, but she felt an edge.

"It bothers you that I'm friendly?" she questioned with narrowed eyes.

A pause. "No."

"Well then?"

She took the helmet from him and didn't press him further when he didn't respond. She had her theory, but rather than shame him into admitting his poor self-esteem, she chose instead to try to prove him wrong. "Can we go to your place for awhile? I'm not ready to go back just yet."

House did a quick calculation then responded in the affirmative; the housekeeper would have been by yesterday, so everything would be presentable.

She seemed to enjoy the bike so he took the long way home, stopping a few times at her shouted request so she could examine a landmark. By the time she arrived at his place, she had a severe case of helmet hair (which he pointed out in his usual indelicate fashion) and excused herself before looking around to go to the bathroom and clean up.

When she emerged, the first thing that caught her eye was the piano. "A man after my own heart," she said as she ran her hand over the keys appreciatively and sat down. "Why didn't you tell me you were a musician?"

"I usually only play that card when I'm trying to impress the ladies," he called from the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"Sure," she called back. "Except replace "beer" with "something non-alcoholic". Seriously, why didn't you tell me?"

He brought her a bottle of water, and one for himself as well; his choices for non-alcoholic beverages were limited. It occurred to him that he might have to change that. "Maybe there's nothing to tell. For all you know, this thing's just decorative." He sat down beside her on the bench, putting both bottles on the floor under them.

"Which would mean either you're loaded or you're compensating for something."

He was surprised to hear her say something even remotely lewd, and answered in kind, though being House taking it several steps further. "Are you asking to see my bankbook or my bedroom?"

She pretended to ignore him as she pressed a series of keys with her right hand.

"Oh, you!" he said dramatically when he recognized the opening line to "When you wish upon a star..." "So do you just have a few comic licks memorized for such a time as this, or do you actually play?"

"I play a little." That was an understatement. Of all the things that she'd excelled at in life, piano was what came most easily to her. "But I'm guessing since you own this beautiful instrument you're going to show me up, so why don't we just get it over with." She stood, and grabbing her drink took a few steps away to flop into the closest chair. "Come on, Greg. Show me how you impress the ladies."

After a moment of protest, he DID show her. And she WAS impressed. And when he broke into a familiar show tune and started to sing along, his eyes shining with humour as he hammed it up for his "audience", she giggled with delight and ignored the red flag her heart sent up.

She applauded when he was finished and called for an encore, but he denied her after giving her a careful look. "Take your temperature," he ordered, and she did. "Well?"

"Well..." she mimicked. "Not a big deal."

"Liar." He grabbed the thermometer from her hand. "You're hot."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not THAT hot."

"This is no time for poor self-esteem," he deadpanned. "We'd better take my car back."

"Give me a break," she exclaimed, checking her watch for good measure. "I still have a few hours before I turn into a pumpkin."

"If you get much hotter, you're going to turn into pumpkin pie."

She rolled her eyes, which House could see were looking a little glassed over. "I was just in your bathroom. Was the bathtub decorative, too, or do you actually have running water? I really don't need to go all the way to the hospital just to be told to take a cold shower."

She had a point. "Whatever," he gave in. "Towels are in the hall closet." He didn't follow her, but kept a close eye as she stood and walked away. "Don't lock the door. And don't use too much of my stuff; you go back to the hospital smelling like me and you're going to get me fired."

"Now who's inconsiderate?" she called back with a smile. "His-and-hers, Greg." And then she disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later he peeked in the door to make sure she was okay, which she assured him that she was. Then he settled himself in front of the TV to wait for her.

When she returned to the living room he had her check her temperature immediately, and was satisfied by the results, though she'd ended up on the cooler side of normal. "You look tired. Are you ready to head back?" Without makeup and with her wet hair pulled back --- it just barely fit into a pony tail --- she looked much younger than she usually did, which was already younger than she was.

"Nope." She took her water bottle from where she'd left it and flopped on the couch beside him. RIGHT beside him. "Anything good on?" And with no warning or pause, she rested herself against him, her head on his shoulder.

House sat very still. "Uh. What are you doing?"

"Hmm?"

"It's a big couch, you know. Not "compensation" big, but big enough."

She sighed loudly, playfully annoyed, but didn't move. "Oh, grow up. If we were at the hospital you'd be climbing into bed with me in a few hours. Heaven forbid I try to take advantage of your body heat while we're a little more vertical."

Her logic was once again sound. He stuck out his lower lip and feigned being close to tears. "Is that really all I am to you? A human hot water bottle?"

"Hot air is more like it."

With that he shifted so they would both be more comfortable and put one arm behind her along the back of the couch. "You can't fool me with your painful, cutting words, Kelly Janes. I've got your number on this one."

"Is that so?"

"It is." He started flipping through the channels, looking for something he thought she might like.

"Well?" she pressed. "Are you going to enlighten me about my poorly hidden motives?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? You want me."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Damn. You figured me out. Now things are going to be all awkward between us and there's going to be all this sexual tension and you're going to start -"

He dropped the remote and reached around to clamp his hand over her mouth. "Shut up. We're watching TV."

She did shut up. And they did watch TV. And maybe, just maybe, she did want him.


	18. Promise

Not that she knew she wanted him. Not in any way that mattered. If she hadn't been in complete denial she wouldn't have been on the other side of the couch; she would have been on the other side of town in her hospital room. And certainly not with him.

Instead Kelly was watching "Will and Grace" curled up next to her doctor and friend without any thought of what it would mean to her if she was thinking straight. And without any thought of what it meant to him.

Because it DID mean something to House. His attraction to her made it okay for her to need him, and it overshadowed the fact that he needed HER, drawing him into a blessed denial of his own.

He was slouching now, his feet on the coffee table and his head resting on hers. He breathed in deeply, drawing in her scent, which was mostly his shampoo. "Damn, I must smell really good."

"You do," she told him. "That's probably the reason the chicks keep you around even though you're a mean bastard." She yawned widely and nestled even closer to him, dropping her hand nonchalantly onto his thigh.

"Is that why YOU keep me around?" he asked with a harmless leer.

"Okay, number 1? I'm not a "chick". Number 2: I keep you around because I need you to save my life."

"So you're just usi-"

"Number 3: stop flirting. It's unprofessional."

He had to laugh. "You're one to talk. You flirt with EVERYONE."

"I do not!" she protested. "Some of us are just nice for the sake of being nice. Some of us are nice because we genuinely LIKE people. And while I know you're going to find this extremely hard to believe, some of us are even nice for reasons that have nothing to do with trying to get into someone's pants."

"Kutner will be sorry to hear that. And probably Thirteen, too."

Kelly ignored his implication about Dr. Hadley's sexuality, but did ask about how she'd gotten the numeric label. This led House into the story of how his team came together, which he was then forced to supplement with the story of how his previous team came together and subsequently broke up.

She was especially interested in his interpretation of Cameron's attraction. "I'm a hopeless romantic," she told him to refute his playful accusation that she was jealous. "The fact that your life plays like a soap opera only makes it that much more appealing."

"So are you the character that gets tragically killed off after a single episode, or do you bear my love child?"

"Don't we first have to determine if we're actually related in some way? Make sure I'M not YOUR love child? Isn't that how soap operas work?"

"I wouldn't know," House lied. "I only watch football. And professional wrestling. And the Playboy channel."

"That last one I believe. Pervert."

Kelly had retreated to the opposite end of the couch long ago so that she could face him as they spoke. When she finally remembered to take her temperature she wasn't surprised to find that she was colder than she should have been. It was also late, and she knew that she should head back so as not to worry the nursing staff. "Greg..."

"I know." He sighed and massaged his bad leg as he prepared to stand.

"You don't have to come. I'm sure you miss sleeping in your own bed. I can take a cab back to the hospital."

"Don't be an idiot. What would you do when you got there?"

"Well, you said it yourself. I'm sure I could call up Kutner if I needed a bedfellow. Or Thirteen." She winked at him.

"I just got a little turned on." He was on his feet now and offering a hand to help her up. "You could always just stay here, you know."

"Yeah, that would look good for you." She ignored his outstretched arm, not yet ready to leave the couch. "From what you told me, I imagine Dr. Cuddy would have a field day if she found out."

"Why would she have to find out?" he questioned, still standing over her. "I can make it happen in one phone call and no one would be any the wiser."

"Is that so?" she teased; he was unbelievably cocky when he wasn't on his best behaviour. "You're just that good, huh?"

"I know how to get what I want. Just say the word."

She rolled her eyes. He made her do that a lot. "I also know how to get what I want, and frankly I'm not sure that staying the night here with you is in my top 10."

"Afraid you'll be overcome by my charm?"

"Afraid you'll be overcome by MY charm." She stood then, very close to him, and poked a finger into his ribs. "Listen, mister. I'll stay if you promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise you won't fall in love with me." It was his turn to roll his eyes, but she didn't let him off the hook. "Come on. Promise."

He held up his right hand. "I promise not to fall in love with you. Scout's honour."

"That's Vulcans, not Scouts," she corrected. "Good God, man. How did they let you out of medical school?"

She excused herself then to use the bathroom and left him to make his "one phone call". When he had successfully completed his task and had turned off the muted television and all the lights, he was concerned because she'd yet to rejoin him. He knocked on the door. "You okay in there? You're not frozen to the can, are you? Because that would be dreadfully embarrassing for everyone involved."

She opened the door and smiled at him through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Please tell me you're not using my toothbrush."

"Nope." She turned away and spit into the sink. "I looked through your cupboard and found an unopened one. And also an obscenely large box of condoms."

He grabbed his own toothbrush and reached over her for the toothpaste. "If you find that shocking, you may want to avoid the top shelf."

"Too late. But I took the liberty of alphabetizing your girly magazines."

"I actually prefer them chronological, but I guess it's the thought that counts." She had finished and looked ready to leave. "You can go search through my drawers for something to sleep in if you promise not to alphabetize my underwear."

Kelly was happy to get away. Her fatigue made her uninhibited to a degree, but she was still rather conservative to be discussing condoms and porn so lightly. She secretly wondered if she should have checked to see how many condoms were left in the box, just to get an idea of how often another woman had shared the bed she was about to climb into.

She and House were very different. She'd never slept with anyone but Mark and didn't understand the lifestyle of casual sex. It was more than just the risks of disease and pregnancy for her; she saw love making as a way of establishing a spiritual bond with someone, and it was beyond her how someone's heart could come out intact with so many connections and disconnections.

But then, House's heart didn't seem intact. So maybe that just proved her point.

His bedroom was non-descript but comfortable looking. She selected a tee-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts from his belongings and had just finished changing when he entered the room without knocking. She felt his approving gaze fall on her and she slipped into bed self-consciously. "Which side do I get?"

"Take my left so I don't have to roll onto my bad leg."

He apparently wasn't so self-conscious, stripping down to his boxers without what it seemed to her to be a second thought. She chastised herself for her disappointment when he pulled on a shirt, and must have turned bright red when he saw that she'd been watching him.

He was prepared to tease her for this, but when he saw the colour in her cheeks he thought better of it. Instead he turned off the light and climbed in next to her, leaving some space between them so she could come to him when she was ready.

The gestured backfired on him because she stayed put; apparently her embarrassment had gotten the better of her. He was too concerned about her health to leave her there though, partly for selfish reasons. If he had to call the ambulance, there'd be no amount of verbal gymnastics that would get him out of the hot water he'd find himself in for having a current patient at his house. In his bed, no less. "Come on," he coaxed quietly. "You've got to get warmed up."

After a moment she scooted back, still turned away from him, and lifted her head so he could slide one arm underneath her as the other went around her waist, holding her flush against him. Now she REALLY smelled like him: his shampoo, his detergent, his toothpaste. But she was all girl under the baggy clothes she wore, and there was no forgetting it.

"Night, Greg." She slid her hand over his where it lay against her stomach, entwining their fingers and pulling it up to rest more comfortably over her heart. Against her breast.

It was an innocent gesture on her part, he knew, and because of that it didn't arouse him. It just made him feel closer to her. "Night, Kelly." And he buried his face into her neck, settling down to sleep.

It was a good thing she had made him promise.


	19. Morning

The first sound she heard was the beeping of his watch alarm. The second was similar: the beeping of the thermometer he was pressing into her ear. The third was less jarring but less welcome: the slight creek of the mattress as he got out of bed.

Kelly didn't move. She was warm and comfortable and though the blinds were closed she knew the sun wasn't yet up. The last thing she heard was the shower springing to life as she fell back to sleep.

When House returned in a towel and saw her still cocooned in a pile of blankets and breathing evenly, he didn't bother to leave the room to get dressed. And when he climbed onto the bed to try to gently extract her from the covers and get her moving, he had to fight a wave of tenderness at her sleepy protests and adorable bed-head. The fight was lost.

He curled up next to her again, albeit on top of the covers, and talked to her quietly while smoothing her hair. "Up. Now. We have to get going in about 15 minutes. Come on. I know you're tired, but if all goes well this'll be the end of it. Suck it up." He loosened her grip on the blankets and was finally able to fold them back away from her. His lips turned upward slightly at the sound of frustration she made when she finally summoned the energy to roll out of bed.

He left her then to give her some privacy while she dressed, sitting down with a bowl of cereal in front of the early news while he waited. Finally he heard her quiet approach and then felt her hand rest on top of his head. "Morning."

"Hi." He left the cereal bowl on the coffee table and switched off the TV as he stood. "Ready to go?"

"Maybe I should take a cab. So we don't arrive together."

"Nah." He held the door open for her and locked it behind him. "It's early. No one will see us."

They took his car, and no conversation passed between them as she dozed in the passenger seat except for House's instructions regarding the lie she needed to tell the nurses if anyone asked about the night before, in order that it fit with the story he had fed them on the phone. Easy enough.

House had been right; no one saw them as they parked the car and walked into the hospital together. No one was in the elevator to hear her admit she was nervous about the procedure, or to see him take her hand and give it a comforting squeeze, telling her he'd be right there and she had nothing to worry about. No one was there to see her stand on her tiptoes to kiss him chastely on the lips in thanks. And after the doors had closed behind her when he'd shooed her out onto her own floor, no one was there to see him lean heavily against the wall with a thoughtful smile on his face. No one at all.

They didn't see each other again until she was wheeled into the operating room. House was scrubbed but didn't plan to participate. He ignored the curious looks of the assembled team (none of HIS team were involved in the surgery) as he pulled up a stool and sat near the head of the table, talking to her quietly and explaining again what was about to happen. "If you're uncomfortable with the local or you start to panic, the anesthesiologist will put you out. But we need you to try to stay calm and awake so we can make sure everything is kosher. Okay?"

Kelly was lying on her stomach, and an extension had been added to the table to cushion her face and still allow her to breathe, much like a massage table. She didn't lift her head as the procedure had already begun and she'd been ordered to keep still. So she answered with a tiny, "Okay."

Twice her heart rate had risen and she felt the need to bolt, and twice he had raised a gloved hand to the back of her head and stroked her hair as he encouraged her to breathe slowly with him.

They'd targeted two separate sites to explore, and the scar tissue was first retracted and then removed from each. After doing stimuli testing to be sure they hadn't damaged the nerves, she was stitched up and it was over.

"I'll see you later," he whispered to her before leaving, glancing up at the gallery as he did so and annoyed to see Thirteen staring at him.

She met him later in his office. "Surgery went well?"

"So it would seem," he answered, not lifting his eyes from the computer screen.

"It was nice of you to sit in there with her." Thirteen knew she was pushing it, but she wasn't trying to tease. It was just interesting, that was all. "I'm sure she appreciated it," she added when he remained silent.

Still nothing.

Finally, she gave up. "She's back in her room now, if you want to see her."

"Are you too busy to do your job, Dr. Hadley?" he said warningly in a low voice. "The last I checked, I had a team to deal with patient care."

"We're doing it. I just thought-"

Finally he looked up, his eyes locking on hers and flashing with irritation. "I can't say I don't pay you to think. But I'd rather not have to start paying you to stay out of my business. Because if it comes to that, I'd rather hire someone who will throw that in for free."

She left him without another word, his angered outburst telling her what she wanted to know. She couldn't wait to talk to Kutner about all she'd learned that morning.


	20. Sunday

House didn't see Kelly again until late the next morning. He never worked on weekends if he could help it (some would say he never worked at ALL if he could help it), and the day before had been ruined by the early wake up. So that Sunday he didn't even get out of bed until the doorbell rang.

"You're looking refreshed," she said sunnily. In actuality, he looked homeless with his hair mussed, his beard untrimmed, his t-shirt ripped, and his pajama pants hanging off him like he'd just lost a lot of weight. But she found him endearing in his "natural state" and so was delighted to be greeted like this.

"Are you AWOL, or did they spring you?" He knew the answer; he'd called the hospital to check on her condition. Twice.

"I have been ordered to return in three days to get checked out, but until then I'm a free woman."

He grunted his approval. "Just give me a second to throw on some shoes and I'll help you bring your stuff in."

While she had half-expected him to contact her earlier and offer her a place to stay he hadn't done it, so she'd arrived not expecting it at all; she had only planned to stop in and thank him for all he'd done, maybe make a date for dinner. Somehow it meant more to her that he had thought it would be assumed. "Greg, that's not why I came here. I'm not trying to impose - "

"Shut up."

"But Greg - "

"Shut up. As in, stop talking."

"But - "

"Shhhhh..."

By this point he was halfway into his shoes. She finally got his attention by taking the second shoe out of his hands. "Greg, my stuff's not here. I already checked into a hotel."

He stilled. "Oh. Okay."

Kelly hated to embarrass him. "I really appreciate the offer, though. And if you'd let me do some laundry here tomorrow, that'd be above and beyond."

The promise of tomorrow seemed to placate him. "Sure."

She followed him into the living room, wincing as she watched him maneuver, obviously painfully, without his cane. She tried to hide her expression of sympathy when he turned to face her.

He apparently didn't notice. "Take off your shirt," were his next abrupt words.

Kelly was genuinely taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"Get over it. I'm still your doctor for three more days." He turned her around so that her back was facing him and grabbed at the hem of her tight-fitting top layer. "Arms up," he instructed, and she obediently lifted them over her head like a child, laughing as he struggled to peel the shirt away. Finally he managed it and she was left standing in a looser black camisole. While he didn't attempt to remove it, he did lift the back up to her shoulders. "You're not wearing a bra," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Not by choice. I don't have one with me that doesn't place an elastic right over the stitches."

He examined her carefully. "These look good so far. Are you in much pain?"

"It's not too bad." He let the shirt drop and she turned back toward him. "I feel well enough to enjoy my health. Go get dressed --- Let's go somewhere."

"Minor surgery is still surgery. You should be resting."

"I'm tired of resting," she exclaimed, smiling at the irony of her own statement. "I feel fine. And I'll be under doctor's supervision."

He gave in. "Whatever. I need to take a shower. My laptop is on my dresser if you're ready to write home."

20 minutes later, he entered his room casually dressed and bare footed, still limping without his cane. He saw that she hadn't bothered to put her shirt back on over the camisole; he'd seen her in much less so modesty wasn't really an issue. He also saw that her eyes looked red. "Everything okay?"

She was laying on her stomach across his unmade bed, propped up on her elbows with his computer in front of her. "Cm'ere," she said, turning the screen slightly and moving over so he could sit beside her. "Look at this." Kelly clicked through several pictures that someone had posted on Facebook, pictures of what looked like a slightly premature newborn and an obviously young mother. "This girl was at the shelter for the last few months I was there. I was hoping to be back before she delivered."

House never knew how to react to other people's demonstrated emotions, but his choice in that moment to say nothing at all was a few steps up from his usual annoyance or frustration.

"Anyway, enough of that." She closed the laptop without shutting it down and pulled herself upright. "Let me take you to lunch."

After some arguing, wherein the words "old fashioned" and "feminist" were liberally employed, it was House who took Kelly to lunch and not the other way around, though he did let her drive. After they ate he suggested a matinee and she teased him for his lack of creativity. ("Dinner and a movie, Greg? Honestly...") Yet when she declined the invitation it wasn't due to his idea, but to the fact that it was irritating her stitches to sit back, and two hours in a movie theatre wasn't bound to help the situation.

So it hurt Kelly to sit, and it hurt House to stand. They were still in deliberation when he received a page. And after several minutes on his cell phone trying to get out of it, he was agreeing to go into work. "An apartment building fire," he explained, more annoyed than apologetic. "I guess it wouldn't have been that serious, except the fire was on a lower level and it compromised the structural integrity; it collapsed. Cuddy's calling for all hands on deck."

"Heaven forbid you should have to do your job. Save lives. All that."

"My job is to solve medical mysteries," he clarified. "There's not a lot of mystery to collapsed buildings and third degree burns."

They were back in the car now, but she'd yet to start the engine. "You're serious, aren't you? You don't want to go to work because despite the carnage and people's lives being in jeopardy, you're going to be bored. Are you really so brilliant that you need to be challenged beyond the norms of regular old life and death? Or do you have some kind of detachment disorder?"

He looked at her engagingly. "My mom thinks I'm brilliant."

"Obviously Dr. Cuddy must too, or she would have fired you by now... As far as I'm concerned, the jury's still out." Checking over her shoulder, she pulled away from the curb. "What now? Am I dropping you off at your car or at the hospital? Or do you want to drop ME off at the hotel and take my car with you?"

They decided on the third option; her hotel was closest. They didn't speak as she drove, and House began to sense that she might actually be bothered by his attitude. "I'm not a monster, you know," he said finally, rushing to qualify his statement. "Once you remove the human element, life and death is just life and death. Regular medicine is largely repetitive and when you've been around as long as I have it can be dreadfully dull."

"Then why remove the human element?" she challenged.

"Because people are idiots, number 1."

She would have laughed at his easy answer if she didn't know he was serious.

He was quiet for a long time before he responded with more. "And because I'm not sure I would know how to survive any other way."

"How you could let yourself care, you mean." He acted as though he hadn't heard her, which she took as a "yes". She pulled up across the street from the hotel and put the car in park, unbuckling her seat belt. "Because medicine is routine, but people are messy. And it's easier to feel annoyed and inconvenienced by them then to care if they live or die."

This was the kind of drivel he'd contested and ridiculed Cameron for time and time again. And he was about to do the same with Kelly until she continued.

"Well, as someone who has apparently been treated with the exception to the rule, I've got to say that caring really suits you. Much more than your usual hard-ass routine." Leaning over the center console, she touched her lips to his cheek. "Try not to kill anyone today. See you later." And she was gone before he could say anything else.

Not that he would have known what to say.


	21. Care

Bad to worse. Thirteen was in the parking lot when he pulled in, and there was nothing House could do to distract her attention from the California license plates.

She hijacked him when he came through the main doors. "Hi, House." Making no effort to hide her amusement, she fell into step beside him as he tried to brush past her. "I take it our patient is doing well?"

House was livid that she would dare to tease him outright. Thankfully there was no more time for jesting once they reached the ER; they were immediately greeted by the smell of burnt flesh and an overflow of walking wounded and good-as-dead. They were accosted by nurses who provided gowns and gloves and directed them to exam rooms needing doctors.

Kelly's words were on his mind as he arrived at the bedside of his first patient. She was barely recognizable as a woman (and barely recognizable as a human being) with the burns to her face and upper body. Her legs had obviously been crushed under debris and one of her arms was bent at an awkward angle from the elbow. She moaned and writhed in agony as House did the exam, and for a brief moment he allowed himself to empathize.

She was in pain, she was alone, and if she managed to survive her quality of life would never be the same.

"Nurse, can you debride this area before we set the bone?"

She would be horribly scarred. It was unlikely that she would ever have use of her legs again.

Her scream was horrifying. Her right hand, one of the only parts of her that was uninjured, reached out blindly for anyone, anything that might bring her comfort.

But he couldn't bring himself to take it. He backed out of the room, telling an orderly to find Dr. Kutner to take his place.

After taking a few moments to calm himself, it was business as usual for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, time passing in a blur of emergencies and ailments and successes and failures, none of which would matter to him tomorrow.

But at the end of the day, when things had begun to settle and he was released to go home, he found himself at the nurses' station inquiring about the first patient he had seen. And he was directed to the morgue.

Bile rose in his throat and he was rushing for the doors to get away from the smell of death that suddenly seemed overwhelming. And he stood in the rain until the memory of her searching hand was no longer all he could see.

If this was what it meant to care, he wondered how anyone ever could.


	22. Wilson

Suddenly he rain stopped hitting his face though it still fell all around him, and House turned to see whose umbrella had come to his rescue.

Wilson.

"Why are you standing out here in the rain?"

It was hard to say who was more shocked by House being reduced to silence, but for the life of him he couldn't think of one thing to say. Well, more accurately, he couldn't think of one thing to say out of the millions of things that trolled his mind in that moment.

Wilson tried again. "House? Is something the matter?"

"What are you doing here?" he finally blurted.

"I work here," Wilson answered, but he understood why the question was asked, so he followed up with: "I got the 911 page like everyone else, so I decided to come in and lend a hand."

Wilson went on personal leave when Amber had died, and since that time he and House hadn't been in contact. Not for lack of inclination; both had picked up the phone on numerous occasions but had never finished dialing.

Wilson wasn't ready to deal with House as he was. And House wasn't capable of being anything else.

"House, you're soaked through. Do you have your car here, or your bike? Do you need a ride home?"

"Car."

"Okay, let me walk you there."

They walked in silence. House had started to shiver.

"This isn't your car."

House had forgotten about that detail. "I'm borrowing it."

"Car jacking is a felony." Wilson was trying very, very hard, even though he knew it should be House doing the trying. "I didn't know you knew anyone in California."

"I was out with a friend when I got the page. I dropped her off and took the car."

House had volunteered this information without much thought, and it in turn gave Wilson much to think about. House had a friend? A female friend? What wasn't he saying? And where did this girl come from? Hookers weren't generally so generous with their belongings. And he'd known House for a long time --- he'd never mentioned anyone from California. A college friend, maybe, here visiting? Could -

"I, uh... Thanks." House stepped out from under the umbrella and opened the car door. "I'll..."

"Bye, House."

And as House drove home, it was Amber's reaching hand that was haunting him.


	23. Need

It was after midnight when Kelly received the text.

x- Awake? -x

x- Yep. Call me. -x

"Are you still at the hospital?" She didn't bother to say "hello".

"No, I'm home." He'd just pulled up, actually, and was still in the car with the heat blasting. House sighed heavily. "Sorry I didn't bring your car back."

"It's okay. But you should have come over; I wasn't sleeping."

"Yeah... Well..."

"Tough night?" she broached gently.

"It was fine. I just need to get some sleep."

He was a terrible lier when he was tired. "Okay. You going in tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah, eventually."

"I need you to come get me and take me with you. You never wrote me that prescription for my thyroid medication, and I realized I'm completely out."

"You might not need it anymore. They should have checked for that."

"Well, if they did, they didn't tell me."

"Okay. I'll be by at -"

"House, I think you should come over now."

A pause. "I really just need -"

"Whatever you need you can get right here. Just grab some stuff and come over. Okay?"

He thought that he needed morphine, to block the pain and the memories. But when he arrived at her hotel room he realized he'd been wrong.

"Greg, you're drenched. Don't you own an umbrella?"

House hadn't bothered to change his clothes, but had simply followed her instructions to pack a bag and get there. He shook his head miserably. "My leg hurts," he blurted, needing to express something of how he felt but not able or willing to identify that it was really his mind and his heart that were in pain.

If she had been mildly concerned before she was truly worried now. She pulled over a chair and ordered him to sit, untying his running shoes and pulling them off. "I'll run you a bath," she said as he followed her further into the suite.

"Wow," he murmured. "For someone who's unemployed..." He had known the hotel was upscale, but looking around he was sure this must have been one of the most expensive rooms.

"I mentioned my parents are well off, didn't I?" she asked while she led him into the elaborate bathroom and started to prepare the large jacuzzi tub. "Well, that may have been an understatement. My dad's loaded. And I'm not technically unemployed, because I'm kind of the CEO of the organization the heads the shelter I lived at and the others I started."

"Next time I try to buy you a meal, remind me of this conversation," House quipped, pulling off his tee-shirt.

"Don't lock the door; I'll bring you some tea," she told him, excusing herself without waiting for a reply.

He didn't hear her return, the sound of the jets masking her approach. But even through closed eyes he felt the lights dim and he lifted his head.

"Here's your tea." She set it on the side of the tub, then went about collecting his wet clothes and hanging them up to dry, conscious of him watching her. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

She met his gaze to see if he was telling the truth, and decided that he was. "Good." She piled some towels in his reach. "Soak as long as you want. I'm going to go read for awhile."

"No, stay." For a second he didn't know where the voice had come from. Of course, it was his own.

"You're naked," she pointed out with a sassy smile.

With that, he could feel the clouds start to dissolve. "So? I've seen you naked."

"No, you haven't," she protested.

"Uh, yeah, I have. You weren't THAT out of it; don't pretend you can't remember."

Feeling the heat rise to her face, she hefted his overnight bag onto the large counter and started to paw through it, saying nothing. She of course DID remember that first day in the shower, how discreet and gentle he'd been as he'd dried her off and helped her dress. "I'll hang up your clothes for tomorrow. Did you bring dry shoes?"

"I left them in the car," he told her, wickedly delighted that he'd made her blush. Then his volume dropped. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, by the way."

She knew right away what he meant by that statement. "One more word, Greg House, and I'm sending you back home."

"Fine, fine." He laid back again and closed his eyes. "What's room service like in this place? I didn't get dinner."

"I'm pretty sure the kitchen is closed... although everyone's been very helpful here since they realized my credit card has no limits."

"I feel I should point out that I liked you BEFORE I knew you had money."

"Whatever. I'll order take-out from somewhere."

Less than an hour later House was bathed and dressed and fed and almost delirious with exhaustion. He felt foolish being tucked in but she insisted.

Kelly set his phone on the bedside table. "Do you need anything else?" She pulled the covers up around his chin and smoothed his spiky hair, which was still damp. "I have your pills right here; I found them in your pocket. Do you need water?"

"I'm fine. Just come to bed."

"You wish," she said with a smile. "This suite has two bedrooms. You get this one all to yourself."

"Why?"

His voice revealed nothing, his gaze unwavering despite his fatigue, and while the answer should have been simple it left her flustered. "Because, silly, I'm all better now. You cured me, remember? I don't need you anymore."

Was that disappointment in his eyes?

"Then why am I here?"

This caught her completely off guard. It was a good question. "Because..." She grasped for the words. "Because it seemed like you needed me." She didn't know what to expect. Whether he would deny it, or make a joke. She certainly hadn't expected acceptance.

"Okay. So...come to bed. Please."

She looked at him incredulously. Such a thinly veiled admission could only mean one thing. "My God, Greg, what happened today? Just tell me."

"Nothing." House immediately shut down. "I'm really tired," was his excuse.

Kelly shook her head but gave in; she could recognize that he had closed himself off. "Okay. Tomorrow, then."

"Fine," he agreed dismissively just to get her to stop asking questions.

Leaving his side, she began turning out the lights around the suite and wondering what to do. But in the end she called out "good night" and made her way to the second bedroom where she crawled under the covers before she could stop herself.

20 minutes later the text came.

x- I said "please" -x

She laughed aloud, and knew that he heard. And yet she didn't move. Instead she turned off her phone completely and tucked it under her pillow.

He wasn't the only one who was shutting down. In the short time it had taken for him to reach out to her again, the reality had settled in that in two days she would be leaving this place. And Kelly knew far better than House the dangers of caring and then losing.

Yet 10 minutes later it was all forgotten. He was switching on her lamp. "I saw Wilson today."

Kelly patted the bed beside her. "Tell me about him."

And House did.


	24. Please

Exhaustion had more effect on his inhibitions than alcohol ever had, though trust may also have been a factor. Before he knew it, House had told Kelly the whole story.

Just the facts. The feelings were too obvious to even mention.

He'd turned the lights back off and was laying on top of the covers. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw her profile but not her pity as she sat cross legged facing him and listened with rapt attention. She didn't touch him and he didn't reach for her.

"And you saw him tonight," she prodded, bringing him back to the present.

"Yes."

"And did you talk about Amber?"

"No. We didn't talk about anything. Except the car with the California license plates that I was about to drive away in, and the woman I borrowed it from."

She ignored his attempt at levity. "House..."

"Don't say it. Please."

"Greg, I need to say it because it's the truth."

"Seriously, just don't." He rolled away from her and pushed himself upright, but her hands on his shoulders stopped him from standing.

"Greg." She was kneeling behind him, her touch changing from firm restraint to tender reassurance. "You aren't to blame for this. It wasn't your fault."

He resented her in that moment for giving him the rote answer, the first answer that anyone would give. He expected more from her. He NEEDED more from her.

But when he started again to pull away she was on her feet and standing in front of him, blocking his way. She pulled his chin up so he would be forced to meet her eyes. "Do you hear me? It isn't your fault," she repeated with fierce conviction.

And then he saw the street light through the window reflected in her watery eyes, and all at once he understood: Kelly had sent her husband to the store, and he'd been killed on the way. If House was to blame, than so was she. And no one could ever make that accusation. "It's not your fault, either," he told her quietly.

The tears spilled over, but she held his gaze. The hand under his chin moved to cup his cheek without breaking contact, her thumb brushing briefly over his lips as she did so. Then she rested her forehead on his, her breathing slightly ragged as she fought for control.

After a few moments, when her breathing had returned to normal, he wordlessly maneuvered her back into bed, helping her to get settled onto her stomach and pulling the blankets carefully over her recovering back. Impulsively he dropped a kiss onto the exposed skin of her neck, and then he returned to his own bed for the remainder of the night.

Nothing had really changed. He still didn't want to be in pain. He still didn't want Wilson to hate him. He still didn't want to be miserable. But his biggest fear had always been being alone. And he wasn't.

When he awoke the next morning, she was laying quietly beside him, watching him with a small smile. And from the disarray of the bedclothes around her he realized she hadn't just arrived. He rolled on his side to face her, smiling back. "I didn't expect to see you here."

She shrugged. "Well, you did say "please", after all."


	25. Happy

Room service was excellent, although Kelly took issue with eating before taking her medication. "The bottle says "take on an empty stomach", Greg."

"It's in fine print for a reason. Just eat."

They had already showered --- well, Kelly had taken an approximation of a shower to avoid getting her sutures wet --- and dressed, and were eating at the table in the kitchen (Greg had earlier remarked that her hotel room was bigger than his condo) when Kelly's phone rang. She excused herself to answer it, but House could easily hear her side of the conversation.

"Why are you awake so early? It's got to be 5 in the morning there!... Oh, wow... Bring me back something... Yes, I feel just fine... In a few days... No, daddy, I want to drive back. I need to finish what I started... No, don't send someone... Really, I'll be fine... I know... Listen, I have an idea, but I need to talk to someone first... Okay... Okay... I love you too. Bye."

"Sorry about that," she said to House as she returned to the table. "My crazy father is on a plane to Denmark, of all places."

House hummed, impressed. "Giving you a hard time about your trip back?"

"Yeah. He wants me to just leave the car and fly home."

"You mean sell your car?"

She shook her head. "No, I mean 'leave' it. You going to eat that?"

He pushed the melon from his plate to hers. "I don't get it."

"My parents' church has a ministry where they repair cars and give them to needy families. We always donate our old cars. He figured there'd probably be a place around here that'd be glad to take it."

House's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you for real?"

Chuckling, she proudly explained. "My dad is the genuine article. Money has absolutely no meaning to him, and yet he has more of it then even I can imagine, though a lot of it's tied up in investments. And he comes by it honestly: He bought Intel stock at the ground level with a particularly good Christmas bonus one year, and just kept reinvesting. Let's just say his first advisor will never need to work again; my dad has him and his family set for life as a thank you for all the free guidance he gave in the beginning. Put both his kids through law school."

"Wow." House didn't know what else to say. It was completely beyond his realm of experience.

"Anyway, he's freaking out, as though the drive here is what made me sick. He either wants me to leave the car and fly home or he wants to fly someone in to drive home with me."

"And neither of those options appeal to you," he stated unnecessarily. "I'm going to brush my teeth. Keep talking."

They ended up brushing their teeth side-by-side, and she did keep talking through a mouthful of paste.

"So that's that," she concluded as they headed out the door. She was secretly pleased that he had left his belongings behind.

"What are you going to do today?" he asked.

"Laundry, of course. And yesterday while you were at work I checked the Internet for local women's shelters. I'd like to do some walk-throughs and get some ideas. I left a message for one of my assistants while you were in the shower; he should be able to make some contacts and schedule some appointments for me." Kelly stopped to thank the valet for his offer, but told him they'd get the car themselves. "Lead on, Greg."

House changed into dry shoes while she drove. "So why didn't you get helicoptered to the Mayo Clinic or something? Why did you stay here?"

"Because of you, of course," she told him with a grin. "I made a call the first night to check up on you. I was told you were the best at what you do."

"So it wasn't my charm? You had to rely on outside references?"

"Considering the nature of our introduction... Turn left here?"

House sent Kelly ahead of him to his office so he could visit the restroom. Mostly to keep them from arriving together in front of the team, though he didn't say so. But when Thirteen and Kutner saw her from the conference room and came in to greet her, knowing smiles on both of their faces, she determined his true motives.

"Back so soon?" Kutner asked, and turned pink when Kelly kissed his cheek hello.

"I don't have any Synthroid left, and I wasn't sure if I still needed it."

Thirteen apologized for the oversight and immediately made a call to have her chart brought to them. "We may need to take some blood."

"That's fine. It's really not a problem." Kelly hopped up on House's desk. "Busy weekend?"

Kutner proceeded to fill her in on the apartment building fire and she reacted with interest as though she was hearing it for the first time. And when House arrived and questioned her presence with his usual annoyance, she gave nothing away.

It was decided to both give her a low dose of Synthroid and take blood to determine if her dosage was to be changed. Kutner drew the blood right there in the office, and she was given enough pills to last her until her followup appointment.

By that time Foreman and Taub had also arrived, and greeted her before moving into the conference room for the morning meeting.

Through all of this, House had sat behind his desk looking through his messages and appearing uninterested. He was still there when Thirteen and Kutner said goodbye and joined Foreman and Taub. Only then did he acknowledge her.

"You still want to do laundry at my house?"

"If that's okay."

He walked her to the door and pushed her into the hallway and away from prying eyes. "Here's a key to the front door. You coming to pick me up later?"

She nodded. "Text me."

He leaned down impulsively to kiss her goodbye, but he was stopped when she put a hand on his chest.

"Greg, would you be interested in making the trip back to California with me?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"You don't have to feel obligated," she rushed ahead. "It would make my father happy if I wasn't alone. And I just thought that maybe-"

"Sure," he interrupted, purposely nonchalant, as though both the question and the answer were obvious. "I mean, I'll have to talk to Cuddy, but..."

"Do that." She sighed happily, relieved. "I'll see you later." And she kissed him.

When House stood before his team, it was all he could do to keep the smile off his face.


	26. Enough

No patient meant nothing to do. They debriefed Kelly's case and the case of the young boy, and then House sent Kutner and Thirteen home since they'd stayed through the night in the ER. Foreman was assigned to catch up on the team's charts, and Taub was loaned to the surgical staff to assist in assessing the burn patients for reconstruction procedures.

House went voluntarily to the clinic and put in three solid hours without complaining. He would have gone longer but three hours was how long it took for Cuddy to wander in.

"Do you and "the ladies" have a few minutes? There's something I need to ask you about."

"I guess I should be flattered that I'm being invited into the conversation at all," she said after scolding him for making reference to her breasts. "Meet me in my office in half an hour."

Cuddy was used to being kept waiting, but House was already in her office when she arrived.

"I heard you actually behaved yourself in the clinic today. Which means you're buttering me up for something." She sat behind her desk and waited for the explanation.

House hoped the buttering-up had worked. He wasted no time in getting to the point. "I need some time off; I'm leaving town for awhile."

Eyebrows raised, she asked, "Vacation leave? Stress leave?"

"It can be unpaid; I'd just like to know I'll have a job here when I get back."

"Are we talking about something illegal?" she probed further, not totally joking.

He was quickly growing impatient with her inquiry. Especially because he was determined to tell her nothing. "Can I have the time or not?"

Sighing, she typed in the password on her PC and called up his work record. "When? And how much time are we talking?"

"Wednesday. And I'll need a couple of weeks. Two or three."

She consulted the computer and then eyed him critically. "You've already used up your sick leave, and you only have a few official vacation days left for the year... I say 'official' because if I counted all the hours you spent behind your desk watching your damn soap or playing your DS..." When she saw a change in his expression --- was he worried? worried she'd say 'no'? --- she felt her resolve slipping. "Fine. You can have two weeks. UNPAID," she stressed. "And then I want you back here ready to work. And I want your word that your team will manage without you, even if that means you need to keep track of them while you're gone."

"Done." He was on his feet and turning to leave.

"And, I want you to talk to Wilson before you go."

Stopped in his tracks, he faced her once again. "I know the nature of your job makes you feel obligated to meddle in the business of your subordinates, but I am for all intents and purposes OUT of a job for the next two weeks, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't feel obligated to listen to a word you say."

She was out of her chair in an instant and used her unencumbered mobility to beat him to the door, blocking his way. "House, you owe him that much," she challenged. "He's been there for you consistently and constantly for every little whim, and you abandon him now?"

"He doesn't want to see me!" The volume of his voice had risen to match her own.

"You don't know that!" A quick move to the right kept him from slipping around her. "He needs you, House."

His laugh was incredulous and self-berating. "Right, I'm just what he needs. It's all hugs and cuddles when Greg House is around." He tried again to exit, but she grabbed his wrist. "Are you going to let me take my two weeks or not?"

"Fine!" She released him and stepped aside. "It's your life, House. Pardon me if I wasn't content to just stand by and watch you ruin it by alienating the people that care about you most."

When she caught up with him again in his office, House had already blown up at Foreman over a petty disagreement and so was feeling much calmer.

"House, is there anything you'll need? Someone to take care of your place? A ride to the airport?" Cuddy held her breath as if waiting for him to go on the defensive again.

He didn't. "I might need a ride home from the airport when I get back. I'll call you."

"Okay. Sure." She visibly relaxed and came around his desk, leaning back against it and facing him. "So, you'll leave Wednesday?"

"Probably."

"Okay," she said again. "Well, in case I don't see you..." She leaned in and embraced him, pulling back before he could respond in any way, positive or negative. "Have a good trip, House. I hope you get what you want out of it, whatever that is."

His expression was unreadable as he replied: "You can't always get what you want, Cuddy."

She smiled a small smile and answered in kind. "Then I hope you get what you need."

House took a cab home not long after that and was glad to see Kelly's car still parked outside. The door was unlocked and he let himself in without knocking to alert her.

She was playing the piano. Beautifully complicated melodies and patterns that House suspected were probably her own spontaneous creations. Her posture and precision smacked of years of training, but her musicality was obviously woven deep into her genes.

He didn't move for fear that she would stop if she sensed she had an audience. But after only a minute it was the 'ding' of the dryer that made her look up. "Oh. You're home." She blushed. "I hope you don't mind."

"You mean do I mind that you just showed me up on my own piano?"

She laughed off his compliment (though her face had turned impossibly redder, much to her embarrassment) and motioned for him to follow her. As she emptied the dryer and added its contents to the pile of clean clothes on his bed, she asked him if he'd talked to Cuddy.

"It's all taken care of," he assured her as he noticed she hadn't only done her laundry, but his as well. "I have two weeks off, starting Wednesday."

"Two weeks?!" she squealed before she could reign in her excitement. She dropped the pair of his boxer shorts that she'd been folding and hugged him tightly around the waist.

To this embrace he was quick to respond. He chuckled at her exuberance and squeezed her back.

But as she then chatted on as they attacked the laundry together about all that could be accomplished in two weeks, he couldn't help but wonder if two weeks with her would be nearly enough.


	27. Damage

Kelly had secured an invitation to a tour, "wine and dine", and then to sit in on that evening's business meeting for a local women's and children's shelter; House suspected that their enthusiasm had less to do with their willingness to exchange information than their hopes that Kelly or her father might make a sizable donation for their trouble.

She invited him along, and he of course declined. While she was gone he packed for the trip, played his guitar, and ignored three separate calls from Foreman who left messages about charting issues. When the forth call came in on his cell, he assumed the likelihood that it would be more of the same. But in case it might have been Kelly, he checked the call display.

x- ID Unavailable -x

"What the hell," he muttered as he hit the answer button. "House."

"Yes, Dr. House! This is Philip Campbell calling. Kelly's father."

House was suddenly and unexpectedly nervous. "Oh... Hello..."

"Sorry to ambush you, but I talked with Kelly a few minutes ago and insisted that she give me your number so I could call and thank you for taking such good care of my daughter."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Campbell."

"Please, call me Phil! And I understand that you'll be making the trip with her back to California. I want you to know it means a lot to me that she won't be traveling alone. The fact that she'll have a medical professional with her in case something should happen does a father's heart good. Don't tell her I said that though, or I get the "I'm all grown up now" lecture when I see her next."

"I can assure you that your daughter is in great health; you have nothing to worry about." His polite and professional tone sounded foreign in his own ears.

"Good, good." House could hear him conferring with someone on his end. "So sorry, Dr. House, but I'm being called away. You kids enjoy your trip, and I look forward to meeting you."

House hung up the phone and started to feel a little sick. Meeting her family wasn't something he'd factored in, and considering 30 second spurts of politeness and professionalism was all he could generally manage, it didn't bode well.

"Dammit."

House was still brooding when Kelly returned. He was frowning when he answered the door.

Kelly didn't seem to notice. "Hey, you. Coming with me for the night?"

"I think I'll stay here."

Her eyes narrowed. "Your toothbrush is at the hotel. Come on, it's late. Get some clothes for tomorrow."

"No, really, I -"

"My father called, didn't he."

Her deductive abilities bothered him to no end. Or, more accurately, her tendency to give voice to her deductions. But before he could confirm or deny, she was talking again.

"House, he's just a regular guy. You don't need to be nervous about meeting him. I swear, everyone who meets him thinks he's the most down-to-earth guy they've ever met. He -"

"FINALLY!"

She was taken aback by his exclamation. "What?"

"You're finally wrong about me! This deserves a celebration. You're healthy, so we're drinking."

She followed him to the kitchen, and despite his insistence refused the beer he offered; she never touched the stuff. "So you're not afraid to meet my dad?"

"Oh God, yes. Salut." He tipped the bottle back and drained an impressive amount in one gulp.

"But not because he's rich."

He was in fine form now. "I'm the best at what I do, remember? The ailing rich flock to me in their times of need, and I couldn't care less."

"So what is it, then?"

"Ah, the open book has closed." He was almost gleeful.

"Did he say something that offended you? Frankly I can't imagine him being offensive. Or you being offended, for that matter."

"No, but you're getting warmer, in a way."

Kelly's watch alarm interrupted them, and having been conditioned over the last two days she immediately removed a thermometer from her pocket and popped it in her ear. She laughed when she read the results. "That's a good bit of irony. How did you do that?"

He looked at the readout: she was indeed getting warmer, though not in the way he'd meant. "When was the last time you checked it?"

"In the car on the way to my meeting. It was pretty much normal then; maybe .2 higher than usual." Her face fell. "You don't think..."

"No, I don't." His beer forgotten, he led her to the living room and close to a lamp, which he turned on. "Shirt off. You know the drill."

This time she stripped right down without having to be cajoled, though she held her removed shirt against her chest. "It was hurting a bit, and itching, but I thought it was just from my bra."

He was carefully unclasping it as he spoke. "You didn't wear one yesterday."

"Yeah, but that was just with you." She peered at him over her shoulder. "Well, Doc? What's the damage?"

"It doesn't look too bad, but there's definitely an infection starting. You probably weren't careful enough when you showered this morning; I told you not to get the sutures wet. You'll need an antibiotic." He checked his watch. "Nothing would be open at this hour, and I don't feel good about leaving it overnight."

It was amazing how unconcerned having him there allowed her to be. No wonder her dad had been thrilled at the prospect of having her under doctor's supervision during the trip back. "So what do we do?"

"Go to the ER," he replied, turning away so she could get dressed. "Shouldn't take long."

Tugging her shirt back into place, she had to point out, "Since we're going out anyway, you may as well stay at the hotel tonight."

Now that he had a reason to leave the house and something to distract him and especially her, he was feeling more agreeable to the idea. He limped off to find an outfit for the next day.

On the ride over, she answered his questions about her evening. "I got a few ideas," she concluded. "And I made a contact or two that I'd like to keep in touch with. So it was worth it. Plus the dinner was really good. You were right about appetite being a symptom, I think."

"I'm always right," he responded automatically, distracted.

The ER was busy, but it didn't matter; House led her through the waiting room to reception and was instantly recognized by the triage nurse.

"This is Kelly Janes; she'll be in your computer as being an outpatient on my service. She needs an antibiotic for a post-op infection."

"If you're dumping her here, she'll have to wait awhile."

"I'll do it; just give me the paperwork."

A few minutes later Kelly was waiting in the exam area for House to return with the medicine when she saw Dr. Cameron.

"Kelly! What are you doing back here?"

"I had a fever, so I thought I should come in. Turns out I have a slight infection. I'm waiting for my antibiotics."

"Were you waiting long? We're really short-staffed tonight."

"Not too long," Kelly answered vaguely.

And then House appeared, and Kelly could see the wheels of Cameron's imagination start turning.

"House," she greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." He handed Kelly two paper cups, one containing pills and one water to wash them down.

"No, you don't," Cameron corrected. "You work upstairs."

"My patient, my problem," he said by way of explanation. He took the cups back from Kelly and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Here's a prescription. You can get it filled at any pharmacy tomorrow."

A voice came from the end of the hall. "Dr. Cameron? Trauma coming in."

Looking doubtfully between the two of them, Cameron had no choice but to excuse herself, calling "Have a good trip home" over her shoulder as she left.

As House led her back through the crowded waiting area, Kelly felt guilty and asked, "Shouldn't you stay and help? Dr. Cameron said they're short staffed."

"Not my job," he said gruffly, keeping his eyes on the door.

"Just a few." She took his arm and slowed him to a stop. "You're a medical genius. That should be nothing for you." She smiled up at him coyly. "Unless you're not as good as you keep telling me you are."

He wasn't about to be challenged into work anymore than he could have been guilted into it. He started walking again.

Back in the car, House was quiet and Kelly was uncharacteristically sullen. Finally he called her on it just to break the silence.

"I guess I just had a bit of a wake up call, that's all," she said, slightly more wistful than terse. "I had myself fooled into thinking I could make you into a decent human being just by asking you to be one. Apparently I was wrong."

Immediately he went on the defensive. "Don't be pissed at me. I told you I was a mean bastard. You can't fault me for being exactly who I told you I was."

"Can't I? I..." She trailed off, and then suddenly she was smiling again.

"What?" he snapped.

"You're afraid to meet my dad because you don't know how to be anything but your offensive self." She signaled and pulled into the hotel parking lot. "Am I right?"

"Shut up."

"Closed book my ass. It must bother you to be so transparent."

Any other day, any other person, and he would have been gone. But it had just turned into Tuesday, the day before Wednesday, the day they would leave this place together. And she wasn't just anyone. Not to him.

"I hate you," he mumbled.

"No you don't." She grabbed the shopping bag containing his things out of the back seat and turned off the engine. "And just for the record, you don't give yourself enough credit."

She was out of the car and on her way before he'd even taken off his seat belt. He struggled to catch up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say I know something about spotting potential; it's a part of my job. I deal with mean and messed up people all the time, and some of them are too far gone for me to even imagine them turning around without a miraculous act of God intervening. But not all of them."

He didn't like where this was going. But he pressed her further because a part of him wanted to hear it said aloud.

Kelly greeted the doorman and the evening receptionist and led him to the elevator. "I choose my friends very carefully, Greg," she told him finally as they waited for the car to arrive.

"You need to work on your criteria." His voice was nonchalant and uninterested, but he needed her to say it. He wouldn't let this drop.

And Kelly knew it, somehow. But she was still looking for the words, to make it meaningful in a way he would accept, so she said nothing as they rode the elevator to the 6th floor, and nothing of consequence as they went through their nighttime routines. And by the time she'd found the words she'd lost her nerve. She headed to her own bed and House followed her.

"I brought some topical antibiotic from the hospital," he told her, showing her the small tube. She held out her hand, but he didn't give it to her. "I'll do it; you won't be able to reach."

He was right, of course. Pulling back the covers, she lay face down on the bed and waited.

It was her doctor who completed the task, but her friend who lingered, taking extra care to apply just the right amount in just the right way. Who allowed his eyes to trace the curves of her back, and let his fingers follow before placing her night shirt to right.

He turned off her bedside lamp reluctantly. "Good night."

His intonation had lifted slightly, causing her to ask: "Was that a question?"

"I just wasn't sure if we were done. With what we were talking about before." He felt much safer now that she couldn't see his face. His eyes.

The mattress shifted as she turned and sat up. "Greg, you're not a bad man. You're rude and abrasive but only by habit, because it's served you to be that way, but I don't think that's who you are. That's not who you've been to me." Her hand found his. "Anyway, don't worry. My parents will love you because you saved my life. And they'll love you because I -"

She stopped in time, but the damage was done.


	28. Restraint

Now it was Kelly who was served by the darkness in the room as she turned 17 shades of red. However it also placed her at a disadvantage because she couldn't see his expression. Which was probably good, because if she HAD seen his smug, triumphant smirk she likely would have experienced --- if not given into --- the urge to slap it off his face.

"Do I need to try to qualify that poorly edited statement?" she asked, hoping that the levity disguised her embarrassment.

"Probably not," House answered, "but the attempt would no doubt be entertaining." She tried to pull her hand from his but he held on, taunting her.

"You know what I meant..." And then God Himself seemed to intervene on her behalf: House's phone rang in the other room. Kelly was relieved. "You should get that."

"It's just a text; it'll still be there."

"No, really. This is the most convenient distraction I've ever taken advantage of. So I insist."

He was laughing aloud as he made his way, in the dark, to where he had left his phone. He was loathe to look at it because the only other people besides Kelly herself that texted him of late were his team, and considering the hour he assumed he was being called in.

He was. 911 text reporting a new patient in critical condition.

"Who was it?" she asked when he returned. Her voice was muffled.

"Foreman. I've got to go." And then the light was on again, and he saw that she was laying on her back with her head under a pillow, hiding from him.

He pulled the pillow off and she squinted at him as her eyes adjusted. "Remind me to bake that boy a cake or something." She sat up and climbed out of bed, following him out to the main room.

"Can you call me a cab while I get dressed?" he requested as he pulled off his shirt.

For a reason she couldn't put into words, the fact that he was so free about dressing and undressing in front of her made her feel good. "It's late. Just take my car and I'll take a cab tomorrow to pick it up if I need it."

"Or you can take a cab to my house and take MY car."

"Whatever." She dug her keys out of her purse and attached the extra hotel key card to the ring. When she looked up again he was struggling into his jeans, still topless. "Doesn't the hospital have a dress code for its staff?"

He knew where that line of questioning was going. "Uh-huh," he grunted.

"But the rules just don't apply to you," she pressed as he slipped on a loud patterned tee-shirt advertising an 80's band she was only vaguely familiar with.

"Obviously," he answered, cocky as always.

She shook her head, muttering "Oh, brother" under her breath. Then she leaned sleepily against the wall by the door and continued to watch him as he got ready, using the quiet moment for some critical thinking. What did she see in this rude, arrogant man who was at least a decade her senior? He was widely disliked by his peers, took wild risks, had little concern for others, and...

It suddenly became harder to think as he approached her, standing much closer than he needed to. He took her keys from her, pocketing them, and pressed his own into her hand before touching her forehead with his fingers, and then his lips.

"You feel a little warmer than before. If your temp gets any higher, text me."

"Okay," she said agreeably without meeting his eyes.

He made no move to step out of her personal space, instead stepping even closer, essentially pinning her against the wall though without touching her. When she finally looked up he said, "And about your poorly edited statement..."

She held her breath.

"...I won't hold it against you," he said in a teasing, sultry voice. "I'm aware that I'm fairly irresistible to women."

"You're so lame," she told him as she raised a hand to his chest to push him away, but he resisted and held it there, her fingers splayed over his heart. In the silence that followed she could feel it was beating rather fast. But then, so was her own.

And then his lips were only an inch from hers, and she could feel their breath mingle as he added quietly, "You're fairly irresistible yourself."

Kelly surprised them both by being the one to waste no time in closing the gap between them. But the gentle kiss only lasted a moment before HOUSE surprised them both by being the one to pull away. Kelly made an impatient noise and leaned towards him again, but he was steadfast in his decision to deny her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, wide eyed.

"I, uh... Well... What were YOU doing?" Kelly was mortified by her momentary lapse of judgement... and moreso by her apparent misreading of the situation. "You were- I just thought-"

"I was just messing with you. I wasn't going to -"

"And I was just -"

"But I wouldn't have really -"

"Can we just forget that -"

"But I wanted to."

It was unclear whether House's final statement had been meant to bring the conversation to a halt, but it definitely left Kelly speechless.

"What? That surprises you? You, who takes such pride in knowing everything about me?" House wrestled with conflicting urges, one to step towards her again, and one to step back and give her space. The conflict kept him still. When she didn't reply he continued. "For the record, I should get an award for my restraint, because I'm not only keeping my hands to myself but I'm trying my damndest not even to let my mind go there."

"Why?" Her voice was small and uncertain.

"You know why."

She did. "Because of Mark."

And so the elephant in the room was acknowledged and named. "Too soon" had been the frequent refrain to both of their thoughts over their past days together, placing firm boundaries and demanding the strictest respect. Because of Mark, and her memory of Mark, and the mere months since his passing that would have made any relationship taboo during this period of mourning.

The fact that tears sprung to her eyes at the very mention of his name told House that he'd done a great and noble thing. He couldn't have known that it was his own thoughtfulness and unexpected ethic that had made her emotional.

"I'm so tired, Greg. And you need to go. I'm sorry; this is a terrible time to be having this conversation."

He nodded. "Yeah... But..."

"I'll see you later. Have a good day at work." She opened the door and held it for him as he departed wordlessly.

And so House left intensely frustrated, not at her or even at himself, but by the situation that made her appear hopelessly and permanently out of his reach. And there was nothing he could do about it.


	29. Hold

Kelly felt guilty precisely because she didn't feel guilty. In other words, she knew that kissing House, even if it had been an impulsive, reactionary move, equalled an affront to her husband's memory and that she should be crying her eyes out to have betrayed their relationship in that way. Too soon.

But she wasn't crying. And that bothered her to no end.

Also bothersome was the not altogether unpleasant feeling she had in her stomach whenever she jumped past her mortification at her actions to his words: "But I wanted to." He was right to have pointed out that this should have been obvious to someone who had demonstrated such a heightened perspective of his moods and motives, but the reality was that she viewed herself as out of reach much in the same way House had, and so to find that any man would want to pursue the broken shell of her previous self that she had become.... Well, it came as quite a shock.

After a fitful night of sleep, she awoke far too early with too much to think about. She managed a small breakfast and then called a cab to take her to House's place. Her fever was only slightly elevated over the previous night, and knowing it took time for antibiotics to be effective she wasn't worried.

She picked up House's car and made her way to the pharmacy the hotel receptionist had recommended. Taking the next dose of pills right away, she then considered her options and decided that bed was the best she could come up with.

He was in her room when she returned. Not sleeping, just sitting at the table, watching her wordlessly. He looked exhausted and haggard and moody, and yet the feeling in her stomach returned.

"You're back," she said unnecessarily, taking a wide berth around him to the kitchenette where she started making tea. "How's your patient?"

"Dead."

"Oh." What was she supposed to say to that? There was no reason to comfort him since he likely didn't care anyway.

He limped into position behind her, lifting the back of her shirt to check her stitches. "You get your pills?"

"Yeah." The gentle touch of his hand on her skin had the unfortunate result of making her voice squeak a little.

"I'll put more ointment on these for you."

Why wasn't he moving? Why was he still touching her?

"I need you to tell me...what to do."

"House..." She couldn't bring herself to face him. Kelly's mind was racing, every thought punctuated by the resounding refrain: too soon, too soon, too soon. He was right in looking to her for guidance; how could he know how to handle this situation when she was so unsure herself?

He reached around her and hooked his cane on the edge of the counter so he had both hands free. He used them to turn her toward him, leaving them resting lightly at her waist. "Tell me."

She lifted her own hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Right now I might want you to kiss me. But I can't guarantee that in an hour I won't want to kick you out for taking advantage of a grieving widow and then find a bridge to jump off of because I can't find any way to escape my own guilt."

"MIGHT want me to kiss you? Is that hypothetical?" His tone was dark, but once again his eyes told her everything.

"Stop trying to seduce me," she told him firmly, but despite her words her own hands found his waist, drawing him closer rather than pushing him away.

He was hovering between playful and pissed when he countered, "Listen, I am very, VERY tired, and I'm not much for good judgement with women when I'm 100% awake. So your mixed signals aren't helping."

Kelly dropped her eyes for a moment, suddenly guilty again but for a different reason. "I am very, VERY tired too, and I've never been a widow before, so I'm really struggling with the balance between what I want and what I need and what other people will think."

"Screw other people," he said automatically. "This is about you."

"It's about you too, you know." She pressed on when he shook his head dismissively. "Yes, it is. You need to be happy."

"I am."

And with that offhand comment, the world seemed to stop for awhile. House's world stopped because he needed ample time to evaluate his statement, which couldn't have been true... and yet was. Kelly's stopped because of her sudden elation when she realized that despite her brokenness she was being used as an instrument of healing.

The water was boiling now and House reached behind her to unplug the electric kettle, drawing flush against her. She seized that moment to put her arms around his neck and embrace him fiercely. She felt his body stiffen, but was then delighted when he relaxed and dropped his head to rest on hers. And he was obliged to hold her close until she chose to let go.

If it had been his choice, he would have held on longer.


	30. Freedom

House had been beastly that morning, but now he was positively cheerful, causing his team to speculate amongst themselves. Well, causing Kutner and Thirteen to speculate; Foreman and Taub were very clear that they couldn't care less.

They did care, of course, but didn't want to stoop to admitting that their boss's erratic behaviour was an object of interest.

"So where are you going?" Thirteen asked.

"None of your business."

"Well, when are you coming back?" Taub pressed.

"None of your business," House repeated.

"Actually," Foreman interjected, "it is our business."

"And are you GONE gone?" Kutner weighed in. "Like, incommunicado?"

"And is Foreman in charge?"

"Oh, fine. 2 weeks. And I'll have my cell phone but I only want to hear from you if someone is dying of something excessively cool and you absolutely 100% can't figure it out, however I warn you that if I can solve the case over the phone you're all fired. And sure, Foreman is in charge. Treat him with the same love and respect that you show me."

House disappeared under his desk, which they were all standing around, to unplug the charger for his iPod base. "Dammit. Can someone...?"

Thirteen came to his aid and used the chance to remark for his ears only, "I saw Kelly's car in the parking lot when I left this morning. Is something wrong with yours?"

"No, I will not sleep with you! Get your hands off me!" House was smirking when he reappeared. "Foreman, you'll need to keep your eye on her; we may have been wrong about you-know-what."

Hadley just shook her head while Foreman appeared to ignore him completely.

"If you have nothing to do, work the clinic."

"I'm already over on my clinic hours -" Kutner began.

"Then work mine. Taub, you can keep helping in plastics if they want you there. Thirteen and Kutner, special project: deal with my mail."

"Expecting to get a lot of mail?" Kutner broached.

"I more need you to deal with the mail I've already gotten." He opened a desk drawer to reveal the dumping ground for memos and letters he'd received over the last month. Cameron had always dealt with his communications, and while he took responsibility in fits and spurts when Cuddy was on the prowl and he needed to look busy, it had been awhile. "Better go through my email while you're at it. Just ignore the naked pictures Cuddy's been sending; you can tell it's just her head stuck on Selma Hayek's body. I would have gone for someone younger but I appreciate her special brand of integrity."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"You, Foreman, are going to tape my shows for me. Be sure to cut out the commercials." He stood and looked at them. "Any more questions?"

"Are you going to be here to run Kelly Janes' evaluation tomorrow?" Kutner was fishing now.

House shook his head with mock disapproval. "Come now. I know she has a tendency to be mean and uncooperative, but there's four of you and only one of her... Oh, except maybe you're looking for that assignment yourself, Dr. Kutner? Hoping she might give you her number so you don't have to steal it from her chart?"

"He could always just get it from you."

Everyone turned to look at Thirteen, and then to House to see his reaction.

Still standing, House calmly picked up the phone and dialed a number by heart. "Cameron, it's House. I heard you're short staffed for the overnight shifts in the ER this week, so I'm going to lend Dr. Hadley to you; she said she'd like a change of scenery. Don't bother to call her when you get this message. She'll be there tonight ready to work. I'll see you in two weeks."

House slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked through them toward the door. "Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone," he called nonchalantly, whistling as he closed the door behind him, his cheerfulness in tact. Freedom, even two weeks of freedom, felt good.

His team was still standing around in his office, not sure where to start in picking apart that encounter. Eventually they moved into the conference room and Foreman let them know what he REALLY expected of them while House was gone. They too became cheerful; freedom, even two weeks of freedom, felt good after all.


	31. Refreshed

Kelly awoke feeling refreshed that Wednesday morning. Her fever was gone, her mind was clear, and all seemed right with the world for the first time in a very long time.

On the phone the night before, she and House had decided to play things by ear on their trip back rather than wrestle too much with an itinerary before they got on the road. All she had asked was that they take a markedly different route than she'd taken to get there just to vary the experience, and that they start the trip by continuing east until they hit the ocean. He'd agreed, though still said goodnight early so he'd have time to browse the Internet for possibilities.

Before he'd signed off, he'd admitted that he felt a little reluctant about taking this trip, afraid that after a few hours together in a small car she might realize he really was the bastard he'd claimed to be. She told him point blank that he was being stupid, and it had made him laugh in a way that brought back that feeling in her stomach even stronger than before.

Packed, loaded and ready to go, Kelly drove the now familiar route to the hospital for her 10 a.m. appointment where she found Kutner waiting for her in the radiology reception area. She obliged him by engaging his attempts at small talk enthusiastically, and tried not to make him feel embarrassed when he said something dumb, changing the subject to her thyroid instead.

"You need to stay on your medication," he told her. "Same dosage. I'll write you the prescription before you go." He was standing outside her changing room cubicle as she donned the gown and robe he'd provided. It apparently occurred to him that he should turn their conversation to medicine now. "So you've been monitoring your temperature?"

"Yeah. Except for the fever from the infection, it's been normal." She followed him and allowed him to help her get settled for the MRI. "Is Dr. House here?"

Obviously, she knew that he wasn't. However even though he hadn't talked to her about his concerns, she thought it would be best to allay any suspicions that might arise from his leave coinciding with her trip home.

Kutner glanced toward the control room where he knew Thirteen was listening and evaluating the interchange. "No, he's off on a sabbatical of sorts."

"I just wanted to thank him," she said believably. "Will you pass on the message?"

The scan seemed to last a long time, but Kelly had no problem with them being thorough. When it was over Kutner took her into an adjoining room that was normally used for ultrasounds so that he could do a quick exam, checking the operative sites and doing a pain and mobility assessment. Then while she changed he suggested that she should wait in the hospital for the MRI results which the team were busy analyzing. "If you give me your number," Kutner suggested, "I can text you when we're ready."

House HAD told her about this. Fighting hard to keep a straight face, she said, "I left my phone in the car; I need to charge it. Sorry."

Was that a look of disappointment?

"I brought a book," she continued, pretending not to notice. "Is there somewhere I can go to read so you'll know where to find me?"

"Okay. You can just go to..."

"Why not Dr. House's office, since he's not there."

"Um... that's fine. Do you remember how to get there?"

"I'm sure I'll find my way." And laying a hand briefly on his arm and giving it a squeeze (of pity, though he didn't have to know that), she set off.

She used House's own phone to call him in case Kutner should arrive and see that her cell phone was in fact charged and in her possession.

"Someone had better be dying," he said gruffly before she had a chance to identify herself.

"Hopefully it's not me," she said genially. "My doctor promised me a clean bill of health."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "I saw my office number on the call display and assumed they needed my help already. Why are you in there?"

"Just waiting." They spoke very briefly and then she hung up, not wanting to be found behind his desk like she owned the place. Her timing was stellar; less than two minutes later Kutner, Foreman and a very tired looking Thirteen entered.

"Everything looks good," Foreman reported. "You should get checked out regularly over the next few months, and we'll make sure all your records get faxed to your physician, but you appear to be fine."

Kelly beamed at them. "Thank you so much, all of you." She shook hands all around and after getting her prescription and exchanging final niceties, taking a few extra moments on Kutner just to give him something to talk about later, she left the hospital.

House met her at the door before she could knock. "You check out alright?"

"All clear!" He hadn't seemed the type, but now that she knew he was so inclined it felt natural to hug him. This time his response was comfortable and immediate. "You did it, just like you said."

"Never doubt me again," he commanded, giving her an extra squeeze before releasing her.

"I didn't doubt you'd solve the puzzle. You came highly recommended after all." She extended the handle on his large suitcase and dropped the carry-on sized bag on top. "This everything?"

"I'll take those if you can get the stuff in the kitchen." He'd gotten antsy waiting for her that morning and had made a trip to the grocery store for supplies. He ended up filling a cooler with all kinds of items he thought might delight her.

Soon the car was packed and after a final bathroom break they decided that House would drive the first leg of their trip. "Where to?" he asked her, unable to keep a degree of excitement out of his usually controlled voice.

"To the ocean. After that, we'll just see where the road takes us."

And so House pulled away from the curb feeling refreshed that Wednesday morning. His reluctance was gone, his mind was clear, and all seemed right with the world for the first time in a very long time.


	32. Possible

They travelled south, bypassing Trenton and catching the 195 East. They had lunch in Spring Lake Heights but then continued south along the coast, Kelly determined to find a deserted stretch of beach so they could experience the Atlantic together in peace.

Until he brought the car to a stop along the side of the road, they had been in excellent spirits, singing along with the oldies station on her satellite radio (whether they knew the words or not) and chatting through mouthfuls of the red licorice Kelly had bought at a gas station early that day. But when Kelly began to make her way down the slight incline to the rocky beach she could no longer block out the reason she was here. Suddenly she wished she could send House back to the car, and maybe back to Princeton, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings so she said nothing.

"Little help?" House was struggling a bit on the uneven terrain.

"Oh, sorry." She returned to his side and put a steadying arm around his waist, supporting some of his weight.

"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden." His hand curled over her shoulder and he was able to limp slowly alongside her with minimal trouble. "What's the deal with this pilgrimage anyway? You live on the ocean, don't you? This one can't be all the much different than yours."

"I started in one ocean, I want to end in the other," she said lightly, eyes forward.

"Liar."

She had to laugh. "Now I'M the open book, huh?"

"It was bound to happen."

As they neared the water, Kelly left him to stand on his own and kicked off her sandals, wading in until the surf was a few inches below the bottom of her capris.

Patience was a virtue House didn't possess in any great quantity, but he sensed the sanctity of this time and so he kept quiet, his eyes not leaving her slender frame. A minute passed, then another, and when he saw her body began to shake he didn't know what to do.

Finally he couldn't stand it any longer. With great difficulty he struggled out of his shoes and socks, and abandoning his cane as well he waded in after her, the water soaking the legs of his jeans. He stood wordlessly beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye, and waited some more.

"Let's go." The silent tears were still streaming down her face when she said the words. She pulled a wad of tissues from her pocket --- she'd obviously come prepared --- and wiped them away the best she could, blowing her nose and taking shaky breaths.

"We can stay. As long as you need."

Now her sobbing became audible and she threw herself against him, nearly knocking him off balance. "I'm really glad you're here," she managed to choke out as his arms came around her and she buried her face into his neck.

Not another word was spoken until they were back at the car, wet and sandy and subdued. "Let's find a hotel," he suggested. "We can start the drive back tomorrow."

She nodded agreeably, and they drove on to the next resort town where she finally broke her silence to book one of the most expensive rooms at the White Sands and played the seasoned traveller as she dealt with the valet and bellboy.

When they were alone, she deflated again. "You can shower first, if you'd like."

He was so used to making light of every situation that silence and obedience were all he could manage to the contrary. He dug a change of clothes out of his suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.

When he reappeared only minutes later she was staring out the window, lost in thought. "Where's your swimsuit?"

She turned and looked at him blankly. "Huh?"

"You did book a ridiculously expensive room, so we may as well take advantage of its features. And I'm no longer your doctor, which means we can hit the hot tub together without me getting fired or you being unconscious." He found his swim trunks and looked at her expectantly. "Coming?"

A pause, and then she smiled. "Yeah. Go ahead; I'll change in here."

He was already in the tub when she arrived in the swimsuit he recognized. She moved some towels to within their reach and then accepted his hand to help her step into the water. "This was a good idea," she told him as she bypassed the closest seat and instead settled in right beside him, leaning her head back against the arm he had stretched behind her along the edge of the tub. "Thank you."

Again silence seemed the right choice, and he was soon rewarded with the truth.

"Mark and I had planned this trip," she revealed. "Ocean to ocean. We meant to do it the summer before he died, but couldn't find the time. So we decided this summer, no excuses." With no tears left it was easier to say. His arm around her made it even easier. "I felt like I needed to do this, even without him. Before I could start to let him go."

Impulsively House dropped his head and kissed her temple, affirming her, encouraging her to continue.

But there wasn't much more to say except, "I made the trip. Letting go will be more difficult." She smiled at him. "But not impossible. Not anymore."

He smiled back, and when she pressed her lips briefly against his he firmly believed that anything was possible.


	33. Rules

That first afternoon and evening and into the night served to define many ground rules that would govern their trip.

**Rule #1: Kelly would pay for absolutely everything.**

"No way. You're missing work for this. And seriously, House, my dad would have a cow if he heard I let you pay for anything. If he had sent one of his assistants to travel with me he would have covered all their expenses. I -"

"So I'm the hired help."

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And make me some tea."

House gave her the finger, and she laughed.

**Rule #2: The sky's the limit.**

"I read your journal before I knew your family was loaded. Why were you staying at hostels on your way here?"

"Easier to meet people. Wider range of experiences."

"So why are we at this swanky resort?"

"Because I've met enough people. And there's lots of things to experience in places like this if you have someone to experience them with."

That evening they visited the spa and Kelly got a facial while House enjoyed a full body massage.

"Can we do this every day?" he asked when they met up again.

"Why not?"

**Rule #3: Even two beers is too much.**

See rule #4.

**Rule #4: Manners are a must.**

"I don't care if you're a jerk to me because I know you don't mean it. But I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from making the staff and other guests feel uncomfortable."

"He started it."

"He asked you an honest question."

"And I gave him an honest answer."

"Okay. But next time how about filtering your honesty to include polite words and leave out words related to the male anatomy."

A pause. "What about the female anatomy?"

"Greg!"

"So 'Can I please touch your -' "

"One more word and you're sleeping on the floor."

"If you were really so polite you would have offered me a room of my own..."

**Rule #5: Sleeping arrangements are subject to change.**

"Can we watch something else?"

"But I love this movie!"

"You would..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Seriously, though, can we change it?"

"Fine. Whiner. How about this?"

"Well, Greg, I was kind of hoping for something with a little LESS offensive content."

"Maybe you're offended too easily."

"Maybe you're a disgusting pig."

"Maybe... yeah, you're right. But I'm a disgusting pig with the remote."

And so Kelly, sighing, grabbed a book from her suitcase and went out to the patio to read.

When it came time to get ready for bed, House generously offered for her to use the bathroom first. He regretted it nearly a half hour later when she'd yet to return and his full bladder was protesting. "What's taking so long?" he called desperately.

Finally she opened the door. "I had to shave my legs," she said casually. "And do my eyebrows. And paint my toe nails."

"Well I have to pee, so get out of my way."

"But I still have to -"

He scooted around her and literally pushed her out the door, muttering "Women!" under his breath.

When he let her back in, they brushed their teeth side by side. "Maybe we should consider getting two rooms from now on."

House spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. "Ya think?"

**Rule #6: Sleeping arrangements are subject to change, but not likely to.**

"It's a big bed, you know."

"I know."

"There's no risk of me becoming hypothermic during the night."

"I know."

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

"THAT I definitely know."

But instead of protesting further she lifted her head so he could slide an arm under her pillow. Neither did she say a word when his hand slipped under her shirt to find her bare skin, instead placing her own hand on top of his to hold it there.

"I'm sorry my taste in movies is questionable. And that I was... less than kind to the guy in the elevator."

"I forgive you. And I'm sorry I hogged the bathroom and made you feel like less of a man by throwing my father's money around."

"That's alright. I kinda like you anyway."

She smiled and leaned back against him. "I know."


	34. Days

Everything changed during the days: Locations, directions, intentions, and how they felt about each other.

The days began later and later the longer they traveled, though this was more or less evened out by the time zones they were traveling through. What could have been a tiring journey served to rejuvenate them both as they vowed to stop whenever they felt the need or the want, and to get on the road whenever they saw fit.

The first day they didn't get on the road at all. House was unaccustomed to the sort of lavish surroundings that the resort offered to those who could afford it, and convinced her with little effort that a second night in this location wouldn't be such a bad thing. They went on a whale watching tour for the morning and into the afternoon, and though they saw no whales they enjoyed being on the ocean. They lunched on fresh sea food, and then House opted for a round of golf while Kelly returned to the spa for a manicure and pedicure. House eventually joined her and they both got a long massage. They left the grounds again that evening to take in a popular dinner theatre and by the time they arrived back in their room, House was almost giddy in disbelief that his next TWO WEEKS could be like this.

As they zigzagged their way across the US, they stopped at major attractions and minor diversions. Sometimes they chose fancy dining, and other times they'd brave dingy diners or family restaurants. They explored anything that caught their fancy and were sure to start conversations with the locals to search out anything they might have missed.

The driving had the potential to be dull, but for the most part they managed to make it part of the adventure. House had downloaded random old school radio comedies onto his iPod that kept them in stitches for hours on end. They sang a lot, and discovered shared musical appreciation in unexpected places when they found they both knew the lyrics to certain songs that would never have landed on the top 100 charts. Once they filled themselves full of soda and had a burping contest, which Kelly won when House laughed so hard that Kelly had to pull over so he could be sick on the side of the road.

The thing that really helped them enjoy their days, however, was the mutual understanding that gradually developed between them about how they should interact. It took some trial and error and eventually a hushed conversation during the opening credits of an IMAX matinee for them to decide that it didn't need to be about guarding the lines between friendship and something more. It didn't need to be about convention or expectation. They agreed to let their relationship just be what it was, whatever that looked like.

And so it came to be that they often held hands as they walked together, through the halls of a museum or as they explored small town streets. And it was inconsequential for him to rest a hand on her thigh as he drove and she dozed along an endless highway. And once, though only once, when a simple kiss of elation turned tender and stretched from a moment to a minute, it ended with nothing needing to be said.

House also took it upon himself to practice the skill of not just saying "sorry" but being sorry, finding that though Kelly was quick to forgive his frequent offenses she was delighted when he voiced an apologetic recognition of what he had done wrong. And he liked to delight her.

But he was still House; not everything could change that quickly: He was still a mean bastard.

Just a happy one. And that was change enough.


	35. Nights

Nothing much changed at night. The hotels were upscale and posh, the beds were big and comfortable, and they were tired, of course.

But not so tired that the time was wasted.

The driving bothered his leg, and all the walking they did bothered it more, along with the muscles overused on working his cane, so he was generally sore and cranky when they arrived at the hotels. The fourth night they got there too late for him to get a massage at the spa and he was positively pouting when Kelly offered him an alternative. "I'm pretty good," she promised. "I've had lots of practice." And fifteen minutes later when House lay on his stomach across their bed, shirtless and drooling, he assured her that she was more than "pretty good".

On the sixth night after a late check-in, House went straight for the bath and when he hobbled back into the room in his boxers and gingerly laid down beside her where she was flipping through the channels, she could tell his leg was hurting him more than usual. She sat up facing him and laid a gentle hand on his thigh. "What can I do?"

A deep breath. "You don't have to -"

"Just tell me what you need."

And so he told her, and showed her, and soon she was straddling his leg and digging deep into the tissue and surrounding muscles with her strong fingers. And while she blushed, she said nothing when it became obvious that the pain was starting to subside.

Finally he stopped her. "I... You should probably..."

"I should go get ready for bed."

He'd never seen her move that fast. He got under the covers, and by the time she returned his arousal had subsided. And the next time she massaged his leg he was able to keep himself under control.

During the day, Kelly took hundreds of pictures. At night she saved them onto her computer and put her favourites on Facebook, which she updated religiously for the benefit of her friends and family back home who were tracking their journey. She even helped a protesting House open a Facebook account, though he argued that since he didn't have any friends it wouldn't be worth it. "You have me," was all it took to convince him.

They didn't always share a bed, but sharing a room was never a question until an emergency call from his team had come in just prior to arrival at the hotel one night, and an adjoining room was booked so he'd have a quiet place to work and think.

She slept in the next morning, and when finally her full bladder could no longer be ignored, she visited the bathroom and then went to check on him, finding him pacing next to a white board covered with his distinctive script. "Where'd you get that?"

"Paid off a guy to bring it up from a conference room. With your daddy's money, of course."

"Of course. Have you slept at all?" She opened the blinds, allowing the morning sun to flood the room.

He grunted, wincing.

"What about food?"

"What about it?"

Clucking her tongue in disapproval, she returned to her room to order something for them to eat and then called down to the front desk to let the receptionist know they'd be staying an extra day.

That night, the case solved and a life saved, House was delirious with exhaustion but was having trouble actually dropping off. He wandered into her room (she'd insisted he sleep in his own room so that she wouldn't disturb him) and climbed onto her bed without invitation. "Can't sleep," he mumbled.

Kelly was sitting up in bed, reading. She put down her book and pulled a pillow onto her lap, inviting him to lay his head there, which he did. Then she resumed reading, her book in one hand and the other playing with his hair as she hummed softly. And in no time he had fallen asleep.

Kelly's favourite night by far was the night they'd been checking in and a server from the restaurant adjacent to the lobby had come running in, yelling for the receptionist to call an ambulance. "My friend is a doctor," Kelly piped up immediately, pointing at a glaring House who then had no choice but to follow her to the scene.

House saved the day by demanding that anyone with an epi pen among the growing crowd who he accused of being slack jawed gawkers (though in not-so-nice terms) relinquish it immediately, and someone with an allergy to bee stings produced one from his wife's purse. After the paramedics wheeled the recovering man away, the reluctant hero was given a free suite --- the best they had --- and unlimited free access to all the amenities, including the restaurant, bar and spa services. Which also made it House's favourite night, but for very different reasons.

"But you get everything free anyways."

"Yeah, but you won't buy me alcohol."

They slept in separate beds as he did end up getting rather drunk and was having some trouble keeping his hands to himself. But Kelly would still count it her favourite night because she was proud that he'd saved a life.

And they slept well. Every night together, they slept well.


	36. Moments

If he and Wilson had been speaking, there were moments that House would have been calling home about.

Like the tender moments, when outside of any outright flirting or dangerous undertones Kelly would reach out to him for some extra attention. The first time she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder on a boring stretch of highway. The evening he'd sat reading a newspaper in a lounge chair by the pool as she swam, and she'd maneuvered her towel-wrapped body under his arms and settled herself between his legs and against his chest to read with him. All the times she would sit herself on the bathroom counter and chatter happily as she watched him complete his morning routine, not seeming to care that he wasn't a morning person and was only grunting in return.

Then there were the times when he took joy because he felt he'd managed to corrupt her. Top of that list was the afternoon they spent in the water park at Six Flags where she let him play the cripple card. She pushed him around in a wheelchair so they could get to the front of the rides and stay in the lazy river for as long as they wanted. Which they did, curled up together in an inner tube dozing or playing "hot or not" to pass the time. He had also felt a little thrill when she'd asked him to order a "girly drink" so she could have a few sips, ending her adulthood abstinence from alcohol.

There was also, though, the hour long conversation he'd had with Cuddy, who had called his cell just to check up on him. He hadn't meant to talk that long, but Kelly had turned in early and he was feeling particularly agreeable after a relaxing evening in. Cuddy had quickly gotten the idea that he wasn't going to discuss his trip, but they still had years of undiscussed topics to choose from. House had needed Wilson most of all after this conversation, to give him a chance to make fun of himself and his own inclinations.

But eventually, he imagined, Kelly would bring it up, and she'd set him straight either way. It's what she did best, after all.

Kelly's most treasured moments were ones she kept private and felt no need to discuss with anyone, accounts that would remain absent from her Facebook commentaries and her short phone check-ins with her family.

She loved holding his hand, loved it when he would reach for hers. She loved it when a song came on that they both knew and they'd sing together, fighting over harmonies and starting over when they finally got it right. She loved it when he would read aloud to her as she drove; they'd finished the first Harry Potter book that way and then switched to a Stephen King novel at House's insistence. But when The Sorcerer's stone was on TV and he'd whined and complained and then sat riveted for the next two hours, she knew she'd be lending him the rest of the series when they made it home. She loved when he played her doctor, checking her stitches and making sure she wore sunscreen.

And of course, there was the kiss.

The kiss had changed her much more than it changed things between them. He had pulled over at her insistence and they'd stood leaning against the car to watch the last of what was arguably the most beautiful sunset Kelly had ever seen. But when she'd realized House was watching her instead of the sky, and he'd smiled a little smile she hadn't seen before, she didn't think. She'd just acted.

His hands at her waist, hers behind his head. It was all so gentle and unhurried. No intensity, not leading to anything except a settled, peaceful feeling as Kelly felt released to kiss again. Maybe not him, but someone, someday. And when her lips left his she was grinning, and he seemed to understand it all when she said "thank you" and turned in his arms to watch the sun disappear.

House wouldn't have called Wilson about that; while he was definitely the type to kiss and tell, this was not about conquest or getting into her pants.

So Wilson wouldn't have believed a word.


	37. Tension

House was still House, and Kelly had spent years of her life devoted to rehabilitating those who were just as mean and nasty and damaged as he was, and some even worse. As such, their trip was not completely lacking in tension.

House was used to feeding off of people's reactions to his abrasive and offensive demeanor, and when the mood struck him her NON-reactions drove him crazy. And so he would push harder and be even more offensive in his determination to get a rise out of her. But she was stubborn and well practiced at keeping her cool, and so the only time he really succeeded was by accident, when he made a remark --- for him it was just honest, but she was incensed at how rude and ignorant it sounded --- about a street person they saw.

First she fell silent, steaming. And finally she pulled the car over and let him have it. And when he found himself laughing out loud, not at what she was saying but at the fact that she had finally blown up, she gave him some more.

He fought back, defending himself, doing what he always did to squash his opponents. Until he made her cry, and didn't care.

House was still House.

There was also the issue of religion, her conservative evangelical upbringing clashing with not only his atheism but his belief that anyone who was not an atheist was by default an idiot. Her unwillingness to debate it with him was annoying.

"Shouldn't you be trying to convince me?"

"Why, when you're not willing to be convinced?"

"But -" And he would go on to tear apart her belief system, to argue why he knew he was right. She listened respectfully, ask questions to clarify his position, and offered little to counter him. Which only made him more annoyed. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"There are lots of things that I'd love to share with you, because it's a big part of who I am," she told him honestly. "But I know you don't really want to hear about it; you just want to pick a fight."

"So what if I do? If you believe it so strongly, shouldn't you be willing to fight about it?"

She just smiled. "It's because I believe it so strongly that I DON'T feel the need to fight about it. I don't feel threatened by you. If anything, it just makes me feel sad that you hold so strongly to something when it obviously doesn't make you happy."

"Truth isn't about being happy," he countered easily. "It's about being right."

"So you'd rather me think like you and be miserable than keep thinking like me and be content and at peace with the world and with myself. Thanks, House. I'm so glad to know you care."

"You know that's not why-"

"Are you sure? Maybe you'd better think on that some more."

He did. And he didn't bring it up again.

But House was still House, and he had to be right about everything. So whenever they disagreed on the smallest detail or fact, he had to make it a big deal to try to get her to concede. She'd always solved these kind of arguments -- with her husband or the girls at the shelter -- by turning to the Internet, so in the evenings she'd hit Google while he was in the shower and copy the ACTUAL facts into a Word file to recite to him later. He HATED that she did this, but she hated that he always came on so strong.

So there was tension, and with another pair it might have been enough to ruin an otherwise wonderful journey. But House was still House, and Kelly was still Kelly: he was quick to forget and she was quick to forgive.


	38. Arrival

Their final night on the road was spent at a casino resort hotel in Reno, Nevada, where after taking in a show Kelly dutifully followed House around as he placed bets, rolled dice, tried the slots, and with wins and losses and his drink tab factored in left him 10 dollars up from what he had come in with.

The next morning they crossed the border into California. As they passed the sign that welcomed them to the "Golden State", Kelly realized to her surprise that she was happy to be home.

House, on the other hand, grew more quiet and sullen as the day progressed.

They pulled in to her parent's driveway in Fort Bragg late afternoon. Kelly unbuckled her seat belt and was opening the door when she realized House hadn't moved. "Greg? Everything okay?"

"Are your parents going to see your credit card bill? Because we shared a room practically the whole time."

She had to laugh at the sudden expression of his insecurity. "Greg, relax."

"Easy for you to say. I'm already expecting a good ass-kicking without your dad thinking he has evidence I'm banging the bereaved."

"The card is in my name, Greg. I'm the only one that's going to see the bill. Now let's go."

Kelly was already in the arms of her mother when House extracted himself from the car. Colleen Campbell was much as House had expected her to be; a plump woman with pleasant features and a ready smile. She didn't wait for the official introduction before pulling him into a firm hug. "Dr. House, we're so glad to have you here."

"Mrs. Campbell; it's nice to meet you."

"Oh, call me Colleen, please. Just leave your things, and I'll ask Randy to have them brought in for you. Sarah-Beth and I are working on dinner; it should only be a few more minutes."

"Will there be enough, mom?"

"Of course, of course. We were expecting you."

After she had returned to the house, Kelly turned to him and smiled. "So far so good, huh?"

House felt a little sick to his stomach. "This is a bad idea."

"Don't be so ridiculous." She took his hand and tugged him along. "You'll be happy to know that my father is still away on his trip and won't be back until late tonight. So you'll only have to deal with meeting one parent at a time."

It actually was a bit of a relief. By the time he sat down at the table he was feeling a little more at ease. Three people joined them for the meal and were graciously introduced by Colleen in turn. Sarah-Beth had an infant in tow; it was explained that she had been a resident at the shelter (House remembered her from the pictures on Facebook) but was living with the Campbells while she awaited placement in a group home that helped new mothers care for their children. Randy was introduced as a friend of the family, but Kelly told him later that the boy's father had kicked him out of the house and he'd had no place to go. Eric, one of Philip's personal assistants who was there preparing for his return, was quiet but personable, obviously professional and looking the part with the Blackberry earpiece and golf shirt featuring the Campbell Foundation logo.

Later in private conversation, House would ask if it was a normal occurrence for employees and lost souls to join them at the dinner table. Her easy answer: "Of course. Where else would they eat?"

Kelly carried the conversation during the meal, chattering away with Sarah-Beth about the baby and with Randy about summer school. When Kelly, Colleen and House were left alone and brought their tea out to the porch overlooking the ocean, Colleen said, "Dr. House, I'm sure you'll think me rather rude not to be asking about Kelly's condition or about you or your trip. But my husband has made me promise that I'd hold off on the third degree until he's around to hear it all too."

That suited House just fine. "Please, call me Greg."

She never did. For the rest of his time there, no matter how often he insisted, he was called Dr. House by almost everyone.

Before small talk could commence, House received a call on his cell phone and checked the display. "I'm sorry; I'll need to take this. I may be awhile."

"Your roaming charges must be atrocious," Colleen said, handing him a cordless phone. "Call them back on this, dear."

"Um... Okay, thanks." And he left the room with obvious relief.

As soon as he was out of earshot, it began. "My, he's very attractive, isn't he?"

"Mom..." Kelly began warningly.

"In a rugged, damaged sort of way. I think the cane gives him an air of distinction. What happened to his leg? War injury?"

"An infarction in his thigh. But -"

"Rather shy, hmm?"

"He just isn't that good with people he doesn't know." Or that he does know. "He'll -"

"Quite a bit older than you, though I suppose at your age that doesn't matter so much."

"Mother!"

"And a DOCTOR! He must be very smart. And you said he's a musician?"

Kelly gave up at that point and let her talk. In her mother's estimation, a single man and a single woman couldn't simply be friends, and there was no point trying to convince her otherwise... whether it was true or not.

When Colleen left to take her shift as a phone counselor at the local crisis pregnancy center, Kelly set off to find Randy and figure out what room House would be in.

"Miss Colleen told me to put him in the other room downstairs," Randy told her. He was hunched over his homework in the library. "I wasn't sure which bags belonged to who, so I just brought them to the hall."

"That's fine, honey. Thanks." She looked over his shoulder. "You'd better check this one again," she said, pointing. "I think you forgot to divide."

Kelly was surprised that her mother would have chosen that room for House. House was surprised, too.

The Campbell home was spacious and well equipped to handle many guests at once. House and Kelly would be sharing the basement apartment. "Your parents are alright with this?" he asked as she showed him his room; his phone conversation had ended awhile ago, but he'd laid low until Colleen had left.

"I guess. My mother was the one that told Randy to put you down here. I think she assumed you'd appreciate the privacy; this is really the only part of the house that's separated from everything else. The rest of the guest rooms are all together on the third floor. This is kind of my apartment while I'm looking for my own place."

"If I were you I'd never leave here." The accommodations surpassed any of the expensive suites they'd enjoyed on their trip. They were sharing two bedrooms with king-sized beds, a large bathroom with whirlpool tub and a double sink, a living area with comfortable furniture and a big screen TV, and a full kitchen.

"Don't suppose they have any alcohol in this house," he commented, rooting through the well-stocked fridge.

"Not on your life. Nor had you better be bringing any in." She accepted the bottle of water he offered and led him into the living room. "So who was on the phone? Foreman?"

"Cuddy, actually," he admitted, flopping down into the leather love seat and opening the Coke he'd brought with him, taking a sip before setting it on the coffee table.

"You in trouble?"

"Nope." He looked around. "Remote?"

"So then why did she call?" It must have taken him a split second too long to formulate a lie because a smile spread across her face. "You like her, don't you?"

"Oh, gag me."

She approached him, remote in hand. "No, you do! You have a thing for her!"

Instead of taking the remote, he grabbed her by the belt and pulled her down beside him. "Currently I have a thing for YOU," he said in matter-of-factly, leaning in to kiss her just to cause a distraction.

She put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't change the subject; I want to hear about this!"

"There's nothing to hear about." He took the remote, and after a quick glance he figured out how to turn on the TV.

"So what --- is it a love-hate thing?" she pressed, warming up to the topic.

"Yeah. She hates to love me, and I love to hate her."

"Did you date?"

"Shut up, woman," he growled. "I'm trying to watch TV."

She was quiet for a moment, but all it served was to help her think of more questions. "You WILL tell me," she said finally.

"Maybe." He wouldn't look at her, instead staring straight ahead at the television.

She knew he would. Kelly left him to unpack her things and then his, gathering up a few loads of dirty clothes and heading to the laundry room, using the time to think.

House and Cuddy. She wouldn't have put that together on her own, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Did she have a right to feel jealous? She could promise him nothing and had asked for nothing. And for as much as she liked to pretend she could read him so well, she really wasn't sure just how he felt and where he wanted this to go.

Too soon. Too soon.

Too soon?

She wasn't sure anymore.


	39. Kansas

House had fallen asleep in front of the TV. When he woke up he set off to find her.

"You've been busy," he said, startling her. "I thought I read somewhere that it's supposed to take nine months to pop out one of those things."

"Shut up."

Kelly had made her way back to the porch, pacing with a fussy baby in her arms that she'd absconded with so that Sarah-Beth could focus on her summer school work. In truth, Kelly was more than happy to have some time with the baby; while she had no interest in having children of her own, she was no more immune than any woman to the pull of an infant. "Actually, I HAVE been busy. Doing your laundry."

He hummed in approval, rubbing his eyes. "Marry me."

"Don't you have a housekeeper that does your laundry?"

"Yeah, but I have to pay her. You do my laundry AND you buy me stuff."

"Well, those are my most desirable traits, I suppose," she kidded. The baby was quieting. "You like babies, Greg?"

"Nah. Too small to eat. Too dumb to be manipulated."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, placing the tiny boy in his arms before he had a chance to protest. "I need to use the bathroom and make a phone call. I'm relieved to know that when I return this little one will neither be eaten nor manipulated."

Dropping his cane, House hobbled to the nearest chair and sat down heavily. The baby started to cry, but settled again when he was shifted to lay against House's shoulder. "Just don't barf on me, kid," he said sternly, patting the child's back. He paused. "On second thought, since I don't have to wash my own clothes, barf all you want."

There was no barfing. The baby was asleep when Kelly came back carrying a car seat. "He out?"

"Yep."

"Good." She lifted the infant and strapped him into the seat, then picked it up by the handle. "Tomorrow my dad will be here and he'll try to monopolize your time, so if you want the grand tour, it may be now or never."

House darkened a little at the mention of her father but chose to follow her anyway. "Lead on."

The Campbell home was big. VERY big. But it also felt very lived in and warm. House looked around politely as they went room by room, and Kelly didn't dawdle; this wasn't the house she had grown up in, so it wasn't filled with memories for her so much as it was filled with cool gadgets and features she knew might interest him. Like the music room.

"Holy hell. The tour stops here." House immediately made his way to the row of guitars, hefting first the Les Paul. "Who plays these?"

"All of us. My whole family is really into music. That particular one is Evan's."

"The brother in the Peace Corps."

"Extra points for remembering."

"Is this my prize?" He touched the finish lovingly before setting it back down, and took a seat behind the electric drums. "Nice. Mesh heads, new module. You play these, too?"

"Uh-huh. A little. Not as well as Andrew, but I get by."

"Andrew in Sacramento who started the animal rescue organization."

"I'm not giving you the guitar, but yes, you're right."

House flipped on the speaker and played a bit, still wide-eyed and scanning the room. Finally he made his way to the baby grand. "She's pretty."

"My dad bought that for me on my 21st birthday. Best present I've ever received. I had it with me at the shelter; Daddy had them move it so it would be here when I got home." She had to smile at his boyish wonder. "Still more house to see."

"Can we come back here?"

"You can come in here anytime you want. It's a sound-proof room, so if you want to pound on the piano at three in the morning, no one is going to stop you."

"Marry me."

"You said that already."

House was noticing a definite theme in the decor as they continued on. "What's with all the Americana crap?"

"You need to understand that my parents are ridiculously patriotic. You should have seen them when I started dating a military man; they were beside themselves with happiness. But don't worry; it's still every parent's dream for their little girl to bring home a doctor."

"Is that what this is? You brought me home to meet your parents?"

"Shut up."

"You said that already."

She laughed. "So, you and Cuddy, huh?"

They had ended the tour in the main living room. House sat down on the couch and she sat across from him, picking up the sleeping baby just to have something to do with her hands.

"It's not like that. I mean..." He sighed. "I slept with her, but it was a long time ago."

"But she cares about you."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And that's meaningful to you, because you don't have a lot of people in your life that have stuck by you like she has."

He swore. "Could you NOT psychoanalyze me? If you're going to make me talk about it, can you at least talk like a normal human being?"

"I'm not MAKING you do anything," she countered, suddenly defensive. "I just think that if you're banging your boss I have a right to know."

It was so rare for Kelly to raise her voice that it prompted him to stop and think before lashing back. "I'm not banging anyone," he said quietly, then added with a leer, "Much to my dismay."

Kelly took a deep breath and relaxed. "You're such a creep."

They were interrupted when a large grey tabby walked into the room and with no warning jumped into House's lap, causing him to swear again. "Where did you come from?"

"That's Kansas. Sorry about that; you can just push her off."

House attempted to do so, but the cat dug in her claws and was determined to stay. He didn't really care, so he let her be. "What kind of a name is 'Kansas'?"

"You know. 'There's no place like home'," she explained as though it was obvious. "She's the first rescue my brother ever snuck into the house. Well, the first one he snuck in and my mom let him keep."

"So what's the deal with that, anyway? You've got this whole family of do-gooders. It's not natural."

Kelly went on to explain that from childhood they had all be brought up to find at least one thing they were passionate about, something that would help others, and then pursue it. When Philip Campbell had started to make it big, he'd called a family meeting to discuss how the money would be put to good use. It was decided that all of the income on his investments would be deposited equally into seven accounts; one for each member of the family, one to take care of Philip and Colleen's house and expenses and to pay their private staff, and one as an emergency savings account that would someday, if it wasn't used, be divided among the grandchildren to send them to university. Kelly commented lightly that if all of her father's investments were to go sour and they lost all their income, the amount protected in that seventh account would still have all of them set for life.

"The catch is that our personal accounts were to be devoted to making the world a better place. So my mom started the crisis pregnancy center, my dad provides interest-free and forgivable loans to agriculture ventures in developing countries, Andrew has the animal rescues, and I started the shelters."

"And Evan?"

"He's only 20, and he's not sure yet what he wants to do. He joined the Peace Corps so he could get some perspective. His account is held in trust for him until he makes a decision."

House was silent for a long time, petting the cat absently as he pondering all of this.

"You think it's stupid," Kelly finally surmised.

"No, I think it's brilliant," House said honestly. "So who paid for your education? I mean, what account?"

"Mine, because my education was a part of building the organization. And it covers all of my personal expenses; Andrew and I both pay ourselves a salary as employees." The baby awoke and started crying then, halting their conversation. "I imagine he's hungry; I'd better go find Sarah-Beth."

"Well, you know where I'll be." He poked at the cat. "Move it or lose it, fur-ball..."

Back in the music room, House wasn't sure where to start. The piano won out. He couldn't focus on what he was playing, however, instead wondering about the irony of someone like him getting wrapped up in a family like this.

He didn't fit, and he never could. Yet in that moment there was no place he would rather be.


	40. Soon

Kelly left House alone for the rest of the evening. She knew that he was a solitary person and after being with her almost non-stop for nine days he deserved and needed time to himself doing something he loved.

So she puttered. Finished and folded all their laundry. Unloaded the dishwasher. Talked on the phone with some of her employees. Scheduled a meeting with her board of directors. Updated her Facebook status to "Kelly is home at last".

And realized that being alone didn't really suit her anymore.

The full brunt of that realization happened to coincide nearly exactly with House's own similar revelation. He showed up in the office and waited impatiently for her to get off the phone.

"Let's jam."

"I just have to make one more -"

He took the phone from her hand. "Tomorrow. Come on."

And so they spent the next two hours together in the music room. This was the first time that they had played instruments together and they found that it didn't take long to adjust to the other's styles. House was loving the music, and Kelly was loving the chance to watch him in his element, his eyes shining and a genuine, wide smile on his face.

A smile that was gone the instant Kelly's father walked into the room.

"Daddy! You're home!" She left the drums and threw herself at him.

Philip caught her with a chuckle and held her for a long time. "I'm glad you're back, and that you're okay." Finally he stood back to look her over. "You are okay, right?"

"She's fine," House spoke up, surprising Kelly by taking the lead. He was on his feet and shaking Philip's hand before she could introduce them. "Greg House."

"Phil Campbell. Dr. House, I'm so glad to get to meet you. My wife and I are so grateful to you and your team."

"It was our pleasure to help." House caught Kelly looking at him with a pleased expression on her face, and was inwardly pleased himself that he was pulling off a good first impression. It happened so rarely, but then he usually didn't put forth the effort. "How was your flight?"

"The trip home always seems longer, but it was actually fairly enjoyable. Are you all settled in? Where has Colleen put you?"

"In the other bedroom downstairs, with me," Kelly supplied.

"Ah." Philip's expression was unreadable for a moment, but then he was smiling again. "Well, I trust you'll find it comfortable. Just let someone know if there's anything you need." They shook hands again. "I'll have to excuse myself, I'm afraid; I need a cup of tea and a hot bath in the worst way. But I'll see you at breakfast."

"Of course."

"Kelly, come make your old dad some tea, won't you?"

"Sure, Daddy," she replied, throwing a private "thumbs up" in House's direction before taking her father's hand and leaving the room.

House sat down heavily, drained from the short encounter. Philip Campbell was older-looking than House had expected, but not frail by any means. The big man cut an impressive figure in his dark business suit, and for the first time in a long time House had actually felt intimidated. And now he and Kelly would be talking about him. House hoped she would lie.

"He seems nice," Philip had led with; he was much more subtle than his wife had been. "You had a good trip, I assume."

"Yes, it was lovely. I took lots of pictures."

"I look forward to seeing them." He sat at the island in the kitchen and allowed her to wait on him a bit. "And Dr. House enjoyed the trip as well?"

"He seemed to, yes." She set the kettle on to boil, then sat across from him.

"And, um..." Philip took his time. "You're comfortable with him sharing the apartment with you while he's here?"

"Daddy..."

"I just want to make sure all is well," he continued quickly.

She reached across the island to cover his hand with her own. "And I appreciate that. I'm not evading; I just don't know what to say."

"And I don't know what my rights and responsibilities are in this situation. You're not a little girl anymore. You are more than aware of the reality of life and men and..." Kelly coughed. "So what's my role here? I'm assuming I'm to keep the shot gun locked up for the duration of his visit."

"Yeah, if we could not involve firearms, that would be super." She left the island to make the tea. "I can tell you, if it will make you feel better, that he hasn't tried to take advantage of me in any way."

"Yes, that does make me feel better. But... um... have you taken advantage of HIM?"

"Daddy!"

"Sorry, sorry..." He chuckled. "Good to know things haven't changed THAT much."

She brought him a steaming mug of tea and a sugar bowl. "Listen, I guess what I really need from you is an honest answer: Is it too soon?"

His heart broke a little more for his daughter, something he hadn't even thought was possible. "Oh, honey, that's the one thing I CAN'T give you, because my judgement doesn't mean a thing. That's something you'll need to settle in your own mind."

Kelly sighed heavily. "I know."

"I do know that Mark was a good man, and that he wanted the same thing that your mother and I wanted: for you to be happy. And it seems to me, for what it's worth," he continued, "that if you've made it to the point of being able to ask the question, you probably already know the answer."

They both thought on that for a moment, and then Kelly came around the island to kiss his cheek. "I love you, dad."

"I love you too, honey. Go on now." But as she walked away he couldn't help but call after her, "Maybe you could just mention to Dr. House that there IS a shot gun..." Her laughter was evidence enough that something inside her had changed, and he couldn't have been happier.

Kelly found House where she had left him. He was sitting on the piano bench, but facing away from the keys.

"Why aren't you playing?" she asked.

"I was waiting for you."

"No you weren't. You were worrying." She held out a hand and pulled him to his feet, leading him from the room. "Breathe Greg. You did good. You did GREAT, actually. And he likes you."

"He doesn't know me."

"But he knows ME," she countered. "And he knows that when I left here I was miserable, and now I'm not. He's not going to pull the shot gun on someone who is making his little girl this happy."

House's eyes were still trailing the floor, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. "I also saved your life; don't forget to mention that. To him. Often."

"Will do." She smiled when he took her hand. "So, what now? It's only 11:30."

"What are our options?"

"Well, we could go to bed" - he shook his head - "or veg in front of the TV" - another no - "or maybe we could go for a swim."

House wasn't so much a fan of swimming as he was of seeing her in a bathing suit. A heated pool on a beautiful night with a beautiful woman. It didn't take House long to agree, and they went to their respective rooms to get dressed.

It took House a few minutes to find his trunks where she had put them away. After quickly changing, adding a t-shirt and sandals to complete the ensemble, he selected a large towel from the pile left on his dresser for his use and made his way to her door, knocking. "Hey, you decent?"

"Come on in," she called.

He found her rooting through boxes that had been stored in the large walk-in closet; she was still in her jeans. "What's the problem?"

"Just looking for my bathing suits."

"What's wrong with the one you wore the whole trip?"

"Nothing, I guess. I thought we both might enjoy some variety."

Several off-colour comments came to mind, but he suppressed them all.

"Here they are."

When she pulled out a conservative one piece, he limped over to the box and shooed her out of the way. "Allow me."

"No way. I already know the one you'll pick."

And she was right. He held up a tiny bikini that she'd only had the guts to wear once.

"In your dreams."

"I'd say that's now a distinct possibility." He pulled out another one that had a bit more to it; still a revealing top but at least with boy-cut shorts. "How about we meet in the middle."

"I don't know, Greg. I'm pretty sure I've gained 20 pounds on this trip; you might not want to see me in that."

"Oh, I want. Trust me."

"Down boy." But she was laughing. And certainly flattered. "I'll need some time to get ready. Why don't you go up and get the cover off the pool."

House did as he was told. He was concerned that with his leg he might not be able to manage the simple task, but when he arrived pool side he saw that it was all automatic; all he had to do was press a button to activate a crank and the cover took care of itself.

It was a beautiful night, and through the clear plexi-glass safety fence the ocean was in view. The stars and the moon were bright. He toed the water and found it warm and welcoming. And he awaited a woman who seemed to want nothing more than to share it all with him.

If only he could keep himself from blowing it, somehow.

He shed his shirt and sandals, hooked his cane on a deck chair, and jumped in. He was swimming lazy laps when she arrived.

"You want lights on, Greg?"

"Nah," he called back. "Don't need them." The moon light enhanced the surreal quality of the evening. Besides, from his vantage point he could see all he needed to see.

Kelly forced herself to ignore the fact that he was staring as she took off the towel she'd wrapped around her in case she'd encountered Randy or her dad on her way. Now she felt very exposed, but it was gratifying to watch House's expression and know that he liked what he saw. She approached the water and dived effortlessly.

And so they swam, and laughed, and talked as they always did. The only thing that changed was that suddenly House was keeping his distance. And when she finally suggested they hit the jacuzzi before they go in, House actually looked a little panicked. "Um, we should probably just head in."

"Well, Dr. House, I know I don't have my Ph.D., but it seems to me that a soak in the hot water will help your leg relax after the strain of swimming."

She was out on the deck then, and as his eyes traced her skin he was suddenly unable to say 'no'. Without using the ladder he hefted himself onto the deck and hit the button for the cover as she folded back the top of the hot tub and adjusted the temperature.

When he climbed in after her, he sat along the opposite wall, causing her to finally ask the question.

"Greg, is everything okay?"

He fiddled with the jet controls and ignored her. Or tried to. Suddenly she was beside him.

"Greg." Her voice no longer held a question, and he sensed she was beginning to understand.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll never wear that swimsuit around me again," he said quietly, his eyes darting everywhere but her.

"You chose it. You're stuck with it."

She said it lightly, and that angered him a little. "A little cruel and unusual, don't you think?"

"You think I'm teasing you."

"This pretty much epitomizes the concept of teasing, yes."

Kelly didn't like his tone; he was being serious. Maybe it was time to come clean. The both of them.

It would have to wait. Kelly's mother, having just returned, appeared at the door.

"Kelly, honey? Are you there?"

"Yeah, mom. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry to interrupt. I was just about to set the alarm and it wouldn't let me because the deck door was open, that's all. Do you know how much longer you'll be?"

"We're headed in right now, actually." It was House that answered her.

"Okay, then. Goodnight, kids."

Wordlessly, House climbed out of the tub and retrieved their towels. He wrapped his around himself and collected his things, leaving her alone and not looking back.

Too soon. Too soon. Too soon.

Until she told him different. And maybe even then.


	41. Hot

_This chapter is rated a mild M for thematic elements._

The next time Kelly and House saw each other was outside the door of the bathroom they were sharing.

"I get first shower," he demanded wearily.

"No way. I need to dry my hair afterward."

"There's like 16 bathrooms in this place. Use a different one."

"I don't want to wake anyone up. Besides, I'll only be a few minutes."

He snorted incredulously. "Feed that load of crap to someone who hasn't lived with you for a week."

Neither were going to back down, and so there was only one way to settle it. "Rock, paper, scissors," she said flatly, holding out her fist and motioning for him to do the same.

"One," they counted together, but before House could continue on Kelly was already closing the bathroom door behind her.

He had to give her credit. He'd been planning the same move for "two".

She hadn't locked it, and so he waited until he heard the toilet flush and the shower spring to life before cracking open the door. "Okay?"

"Yep," she called back.

Not so okay. The stand-alone shower was encased in clear sliding glass with only strategically placed decals to keep her naked body from being fully in view. NOT what he needed at that moment.

Kelly had arranged all of his toiletries neatly on the counter. If only to distract himself, he worked on trimming his beard until the mirror fogged up and then switched to brushing and flossing.

Suddenly the room was quiet; Kelly had shut the water off. He turned to see her slide open the door slightly to grab her robe, slipping into it as she emerged. "Your turn," she told him sunnily, waiting for payback for having tricked him before.

Payback didn't come. "Yeah. Thanks. I... yeah." The robe she wore was loosely tied and when she bent over to attack her hair with a towel he could see right down the front.

"I think I'll dry my hair in my room; with you showering the mirror will be too foggy to see."

"That won't be a problem," he muttered under his breath.

Not under far enough. She straightened and eyed him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he all but growled.

A knowing smile crossed her face, mixed with just a hint of pity. "Are you implying that you'll be taking a COLD shower, House?"

Well, if that's how she wanted to play it... "Are you implying that you haven't noticed I've been turned on since the moment you walked outside in that little swimsuit?" He hopped up onto the counter and sat with a towel in his lap after he saw her automatic glance.

She blushed but didn't let him get the better of her. "I know you think I'm a prude because Mark and I didn't make it to third base until we were engaged" --- this bit of information had come out during a late night gab session and he loved to tease her about it --- "but I was married for seven years, and during that time I became fairly comfortable with the sexual needs of the male gender."

"So what?" he challenged.

"So, you don't HAVE to take a cold shower, you know." She took a step toward him, and then another, until she was standing between his knees.

His eyes widened in genuine shock at her boldness. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you could take a HOT shower..."

"Wait, I'm confused." He truly, truly was. Confused and aroused. "Are you offering to jump back in there with me? Because I have seriously taken an awful lot of cold showers on this trip, and if THIS is all it took than I'm going to be pissed." He glanced down her robe again, which hung slightly agape.

"Dream on, lover boy." Yet she didn't adjust the robe. "I'm just saying that it doesn't bother me. If you need to... take a hot shower. I've seen your porn stash, remember? Frankly you don't strike me as the cold shower type."

"I'm not. I'm definitely not, but...I wouldn't be thinking about porn." He knew he shouldn't touch her, but he couldn't help it. His hands found her hips.

Her expression, which had been embarrassed yet strong and playful, suddenly softened. "Greg House, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think this is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"You think it's sweet that I'd be thinking of you while I was jacking off?"

"No, dummy," she said quickly as she slapped at his chest, blushing again and adding, "P.S.? I AM enough of a prude that I prefer my metaphor, if you don't mind."

"Sorry." By this point he was trying not to laugh. This was a conversation he never expected to be having with her of all people. "You're going to need to explain it then, I'm afraid. As we've already established, there's not a lot of blood getting to my brain right now."

Even she was laughing now. "I meant - and I think you KNOW I meant - that if you're telling me the truth, it's incredibly sweet that you would consistently choose a cold shower over... involving me in the alternative. Whether I knew it or not." And she leaned in a little closer to kiss him.

He stopped her. "Well, I am telling the truth." And he was. "But you'd be better off getting out of here before I try to involve you in a DIFFERENT alternative," he advised wryly even as his groin tightened all the more. He gave her a little push toward the door. "We've already talked about cruel and unusual. Not to mention I'm not sure the city has enough cold water to help me handle what I'm already dealing with here."

Kelly stood her ground, resting her hands on his thighs and feeling him shudder. It had been a long time since she'd experienced that kind of power. "We're actually on a well," she informed him casually. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding.

"Even worse." House was surprised he could still find his voice. If she didn't leave right that instant...

She mercifully backed away and continued in a light tone that seemed to deny all that had just taken place. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. That robe there is for you if you want it- " she pointed - "and your shampoo and stuff is all in there. So... Why don't you let me get it started for you?"

She was giving nothing away, and as he watched her cross back to the shower and turn on the water he realized he was holding his breath.

"See you in a bit." She grabbed her hair dryer and brush, and without another look at him she was gone.

House's whole body was shaking with the effort it had taken to maintain his self-control through that crazy encounter. And now he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Until he limped over to the shower and stuck his hand under the water for only a split second before he was forced to withdraw it.

The water was very, very hot.


	42. Okay

Kelly was sitting up on her bed, trying to read but having trouble focusing. Mortified by her own actions, excited by his interest, scared of her own interest, and terribly conflicted overall. And of course, completely unsure about how she was supposed to behave when she saw him again.

Eventually she had to find out the hard way. He walked through her door without knocking.

"Dr. House," she began demurely. "You're looking..." She ducked her head and laughed at herself, at them, at the whole situation. "Yeah, I can't do it."

"I wasn't expecting you to be able to pull off nonchalant, don't worry." House had donned his plaid flannel pajama pants and a worn grey tee shirt. Kelly, on the other hand, was fully dressed and well layered. "What's with the get-up? Are you having a relapse?"

"Trying to make up for 'cruel and unusual', that's all."

Feeling extra bold and very relaxed, House leaned his cane against the wall and climbed up onto the bed. "You could easily turn me on in a parka from 20 paces, so don't even bother." He laid down on his stomach on top of the covers, pulling over a pillow to stuff under his head, which was turned toward her. "So... are we okay?"

She regarded him seriously, a little surprised that he was thoughtful enough to ask. "Yeah. Of course we're okay."

He searched her eyes for a moment before saying, "Good. That's good."

"I'm just... uh... not really sure what happens now."

He paused. "Nothing HAPPENS. I mean, nothing has to happen. Nothing's changed."

"Something has definitely changed," she insisted, blushing. She was certain she had blushed more in the past two weeks than she had over the span of her whole life.

"Not for me." His eyes left hers, darting uncomfortably. "I'm just as attracted to you as I've always been. But I'm also not expecting any more from this than I ever did. We have lots of time."

"We have four days," she corrected bitterly.

"Um, okay, maybe you've forgotten that you're loaded. As in, you can afford to come to Jersey whenever you want. Or bring me here. You could afford to buy me my own damn plane. Hell, you could probably afford to buy the hospital and have it airlifted to your back yard."

She shook her head in mock disgust. "I knew it. It's not ME that gets you hot and bothered; it's my money."

"Nope. Definitely you."

"Flatterer."

"I've heard that flattery will get me everywhere," he said with a harmless leer. "My personal travel goal is first base."

"Well, in that case, 'all aboard'..."

Had she expected him to take her seriously? Had she actually been serious when she said it? It all happened so fast that there wasn't a lot of time to consider.

All she knew for sure was that when he rolled onto his side and snaked a hand behind her head to pull her toward him, she didn't open her mouth to protest. In fact, the only time she opened her mouth was to slide her tongue over his. She waited for the red flags or the familiar refrain, but her conscience was blissfully silent, allowing her to focus instead on the sensations of his lips, his tongue, his hands.

Minutes later they pulled apart, breathless.

"First base. Check," he quipped, wide eyed, after a few moments had passed.

Kelly was in an even deeper state of shock, but managed to come back with, "It's good to have goals."

He rested his forehead on hers and chuckled. "I have more. You want to hear them?"

"Do you want a knee to the groin?"

"Groin, yes. Knee..." He trailed off when he saw her warning glare. "Anyway..." He kissed her quickly and sat up. "I guess I should go to bed. Can you come wake me up for breakfast?"

Before he could move to stand, she sat up herself and grabbed him by the wrist. "Where do you think you're going? You... shower... and suddenly you lose your taste for sharing a bed?"

"Actually, it's more like I've gained a taste for not getting my ass kicked by your father. Nothing sends a good first impression out the window like being found in bed with a guy's only daughter."

"My parents aren't going to come down here."

"What if they do?"

"They're not going to."

"You can't know that with absolute certainty."

"Well, if they do, they'll have to knock on my locked door to get in, and you'll have ample time to hide under the bed."

"What if they look in my room?"

"We're not nine, and they're not stalkers. You're a guest in their home, Greg. Just shut your door and make your bed look slept in and we'll be fine."

"You know, for a girl who didn't get to third base until she was engaged - "

"Greg -"

"- you're awfully desperate to get me into your bed."

"- if you ever want to make it to SECOND base, you'll never mention that again."

"Listen." He lifted her hand to his lips. "It was hard enough to share a bed with you before. Frankly, I can't be trusted."

He was kidding, but at the same time he wasn't. And so when he retrieved his cane and walked away, pausing at the door to say a wistful goodnight, she didn't stop him.


	43. Nerves

When Kelly went to awaken House, she found his bed empty and made and Kansas sprawled on the bedspread. She rubbed the cat under its chin and went to dress and prepare herself for the day.

Her mom was already awake, having prepared breakfast for Randy and Sarah-Beth and made sure they'd made it off to school. Now she was cooking breakfast again for the adults and minding a sleeping infant, singing along with the radio and happily in her element. "Good morning, honey," she trilled. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, fine," Kelly lied. "Can I help you with anything?"

"No thanks, it's almost ready. I'll go get your father. Why don't you get Dr. House? I believe he's in the music room."

He was. Kelly found him at the piano.

"You were up early."

"Your stupid cat woke me up."

Always the crank. He didn't miss a beat while he complained, but the moment her hands found his shoulders he hit a wrong note. His recovery was immediate but the mistake wasn't unnoticed. "Time for breakfast."

His fingers reluctantly left the keys and with some difficulty he rose to his feet. "Do I look okay?" he mumbled self-consciously.

"You're looking 'cruel and unusual', in my opinion." The blue of his eyes was made all the more vibrant set against a dark cerulean button-down over a white tee-shirt. His khakis hung just right on his lean frame. "There's nothing to be nervous about. Just be yourself."

"You're an idiot. That's got to be the worst advice I've ever heard."

"You just need to relax." She smoothed the front of his shirt and ran her fingers through his hair to tame the errant strands. "You really do look great."

"Stop flirting." But he was smiling a small smile when he looked down at her with such tenderness it nearly brought tears to her eyes. "Now I'm assuming you're not so skinny because you grew up eating terrible cooking."

"You assume correctly. My mom's an excellent cook; she'll fatten you up."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, if I can managed to keep it down. Alright, let's go."

House set a ridiculous pace. Kelly took his hand and questioned, "Are you really that intimidated by my father? What could he possibly do to you?"

"He could tell me to stay away from his daughter."

She laughed. "That's all? Honey, I'm 32 years old, and my dad's not stupid," she assured him confidently. "He wouldn't dare!"

Embarrassed by his own uncharacteristic nervousness, he tried to play it off. "Well then, sugar, let's eat."

Yet for all her big talk, Kelly was still careful to drop his hand before entering the kitchen. Not that she didn't trust her dad; she just wasn't quite ready to trust herself.


	44. Agreement

Breakfast in the kitchen gave way to mid-morning tea in the sun room and ended with a trip to a local restaurant for lunch; there was, after all, a lot to catch up on.

House had it easy while Kelly recounted the events of her trip before she'd arrived in Jersey. He could have tuned out but he found himself gratified by the details she chose not to include; he had read her journal and knew the story behind the story. Where knowledge could have been power, it had instead become intimacy, and he was glad that her deepest thoughts and feelings had apparently been reserved for him alone.

Then it came time to describe their meeting and her stay in the hospital, and much to his chagrin she deferred largely to him. And yet when he failed to catch himself and answered one of her asides with his usual fare, her parents responded with laughter instead of shock or disdain.

As their conversation became less one-sided, Phil and Colleen finding much to interject and ask about, House found that Kelly's father was a man of great wit himself, a man who loved to bait others. The difference between them was that Kelly's father was kind above all else and sought to evoke laughter for the sake of laughter, not for the sake of tearing down another.

"So how long will you be with us, Dr. House?" Colleen asked over dessert as things were winding down.

"I'm expected back at work on Wednesday. I should probably go online today and try to find a flight for Tuesday."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Philip chimed in. "Just let my assistant know an approximate time when you'd like to head back and he'll take care of the arrangements."

House thanked him, feeling slightly defensiveness as though the offer had somehow been an affront. House was a doctor, world renowned, but completely out of his league in comparison to this man.

Kelly yawned widely as they stepped out of the car, home again. "Well, all, it's nap time for me. I'm hoping to take a drive down to Sacramento later today and check in on the shelter."

"Okay, honey," her mom responded. "Should I plan on you for supper?"

"No thanks; we'll grab something on the road." She winked at House, and he smiled a relieved smile.

The basement apartment had its own entrance from the outside, and that was what they used. As she fumbled with the keys his hands went to her waist.

"Am I invited to nap time?" he asked. "Because after that fiasco I wouldn't be opposed to it."

"'Fiasco'?" she repeated, opening the door and waving him inside. "I'm sorry that went on for so long, but I think my parents had a lot riding on this trip."

"What do you mean?"

"I left miserable, I came back happy," she stated simply. "It was more than they could have hoped for. Which is why you could have made a complete ass of yourself today or used only inappropriate four letter words when talking to my mother and you STILL would have been lauded as a hero."

He had followed her into her room and watched as she took off her shoes. "I didn't use any, you know."

"Any what?"

"Inappropriate four letter words."

One look at his proud expression and she dissolved into giggles. "Such a gentleman." After her shoes came her socks, and then her capris, leaving her in a tank top and panties. "You know what I think, Greg House? I think you don't give a damn what may father says or doesn't say. I don't think you ever did."

"Really." His eyes didn't leave her as she climbed into bed. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he stayed where he was, still fully clothed but itching to join her.

"Really. I think this whole thing has been about you not wanting to disappoint me."

He paused thoughtfully. "If I agree to that, will it lead to us making out again?"

"That's a distinct possibility. It would make you seem all vulnerable and self-conscious and adorable." She gave him a 'come hither' look and suddenly he sprung into action.

"Then I agree. Wholeheartedly. One hundred and ten percent." He locked her door and dropped his cane, moving faster than she'd ever seen him move as he ignored or perhaps didn't notice the pain in his leg. He kicked off his shoes and tumbled into bed.


	45. Understand

House supported most of his weight with his arms and good leg as he took the lead, kissing her neck, trailing to her ear and feeling her squirm at the sensation, and finally meeting her lips.

Kelly felt more inhibited than she had the night before and it didn't take House long to notice. "What's wrong?" he asked between kisses.

"Nothing." She brought a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer like she had something to prove.

Knowing that this could go nowhere anyway, knowing he had to keep himself under some semblance of control, he decided to take the time and broach the issue. "No, what is it?" He thwarted her attempts to keep kissing him by moving his head just out of her reach.

"Well, I was just thinking a lot last night... And I was wondering..." She didn't want to ask because she didn't want to know. But she needed to know. "When you joke about sleeping with prostitutes, are you actually joking?"

House groaned in frustration and rolled off of her, now staring at the ceiling.

"So it's true."

"If you're going to preach a sermon or dig out your psych textbooks and try to diagnose me as a sex addict, I'm going to my own room... and possibly my own state. So don't start."

But what he expected --- and what HAD he expected? --- to follow his ultimatum never came. She didn't even turn away, instead rolling TOWARDS him. He turned his head and tried to read her expression but found himself maddeningly illiterate.

"It takes a couple of hours to get to Sacramento. Do you just want to stay here while I visit the shelter?"

His eyes narrowed. "No, I don't." Her voice had been as kind as ever, but he reacted with annoyance and perhaps a little fear that he had finally crossed a line in her mind where grace couldn't follow. "I'm coming with you," he said resolutely.

"You'll have to meet people," she reminded him. "Unless you want to stay in the car. Or maybe you can go to a movie..."

Her voice was a little too hopeful. "Stop it!" He lashed out with more force than he had intended, surprising them both. "I'm the exact same person I was last night when you had your tongue in my mouth, and you weren't complaining then. So for -"

Her tongue was in his mouth again; she didn't want to fight, and knew that if she came right out and said what was on her mind he would either be very hurt or very angry.

The kiss started out fiercely but ended tenderly as he relaxed under her gentle caresses and soft sighs. They broke apart long enough for him to slip under the covers next to her, his hand running over all the exposed flesh he could reach as though laying claim. He put an arm under her head and they lay on their sides facing each other, nose to nose and sharing breath.

"Can I come with you to the shelter? Please?"

And against her better judgement, she agreed.

House fell asleep soon after that, but Kelly's mind remained wide awake though her body was exhausted. She wasn't ready for one reality to meet another, if this "thing" between she and House could even be counted as reality. She feared that keeping him separate from that part of her life was the only thing that kept her fooled into thinking that when he left four days from now he'd have a reason to come back.

She had only just closed her eyes when he kissed her awake and alert again. "It's almost four," he told her quietly. "Should we get ready to go?"

The advantage of her sleepless afternoon meant that she was able to sleep in the car with him driving, keeping their conversation to a minimum. The few times she was jolted awake by the movement of the car or her head dropping to her chest, she found his hand tightly holding hers and gave him a reassuring squeeze, though she herself was sure of nothing.

They went through a drive-thru on the outskirts of the city and ate at a picnic table before she took her place behind the wheel and drove mechanically to what had been her home for seven years... and she sensed in her heart might soon be again. And yet she felt numb.

Until she walked through the door, that is, and was immediately drawn into the embrace of Molly, one of the first girls who had lived at the shelter and who now worked part time there as she finished her degree at the community college. Looking at her now Kelly could barely picture the rebellious, sullen, foul-mouthed teenager she had once been; Molly had become a confident, happy, compassionate young woman who had chosen not to take for granted the blessing of a new start that she had been given.

And yet this wasn't a completely joyful welcome. Molly was relieved to see her for reasons she quickly went on to explain. "It's Jenna. She ran away after school one day and when she came back last night she wouldn't talk to anyone." She motioned for Kelly to follow, and House, who hadn't even been introduced, limped silently along behind. "There was blood on her clothes, but she won't let anyone near her."

When they stopped outside a closed door, Kelly instructed Molly to bring her some supplies. "And can you show my friend where he can wait for me?"

"Let me help," House insisted, more from not wanting to be separated from her than from actually feeling compelled to lend a hand.

"Not a good idea," Molly said immediately. "She doesn't do so well with men."

"I'm a doctor," he countered. "If she's hurt I can assess her."

"It doesn't matter." This time it was Kelly who turned him down. "It's a sensitive situation. You can wait out here if you want, and I'll see if she'll let you take a look. But don't hold your breath."

Kelly entered the room, leaving the door ajar. House wasn't sure if that was a policy of the shelter or if it was done for his benefit, but regardless he was able to listen in.

"Jenna..."

"Miss Kelly?"

House could hear choked sobs and a string of reassuring words followed by a broken recitation of the facts. And suddenly --- how had it not occurred to him before? --- he understood her reluctance to bring him there.

Molly brushed past him with a large plastic container presumably filled with first-aid supplies, dropping it inside the door and leaving again without addressing him. Then he heard Kelly speaking again.

"Jenna? I have a friend here with me who's a doctor. Can I bring him in to check you over?" The girl must have shook her head because Kelly kept trying to convince her, apparently to no avail. Finally the stand-off ended when Kelly said, "Honey, you know why I need his help. Please."

The next thing he knew, House was being ushered into a large cheery room with two sets of bunk beds and a well-equipped study area. His eyes lingered on every detail much longer than necessary to delay the inevitable. "I'm Dr. House," he told the girl, who looked to be about 16.

He used the waterless cleanser Kelly offered to sterilize his hands and accepted her help in putting on the latex gloves. But when he turned to start the exam she stopped him.

"Double glove, Greg," she murmured quietly.

HIV positive. That explained a lot.

The girl couldn't stop shaking and would not let go of Kelly's hand as House examined the bruising on her abdomen and debrided the scrapes on her back that looked like she'd been drug across the ground. The finger marks on her arm confirmed that theory.

"Has your social worker been here, honey?" Kelly asked the girl, trying to draw her attention away from the pain she was obviously feeling.

"Yeah. She wanted to take me..." The tears returned.

"Okay, I'll give her a call when we're finished here and get it all sorted out. Don't worry."

"I'm... uh -" House stuttered. "I think I'm done. I'm not licensed to write prescriptions in this state, but you need to get her an antibiotic just to be safe."

15 minutes later Kelly was on the phone with social services and House was right there with her, perching on a tall stool at the kitchen island and holding her back against him, his chin on her shoulder. It was a needy gesture on his part but it told her that he understood and was in some way sorry.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for him. The girls arrived home from their trip to the mall, and all but two (who had come to the shelter since Kelly left) surrounded Kelly with greetings and questions. House was introduced but largely ignored, which suited him just fine.

Like Sarah Beth and Randy, all of these girls were in a special summer school program helping them to catch up to their peers. Taking charge with ease, Kelly sent them all to their rooms to work on their homework, quickly squelching rumblings about it being Friday night with a stern but loving look and a promise that she would say goodbye to each of them before she left. She pulled aside the girls sharing a room with Jenna and made it clear how they were to behave towards her.

And then Kelly and the older couple who had taken her place disappeared into the office for a meeting, leaving House alone with his unsettling thoughts.

She returned apologetic. "Sorry that took so long. I took some extra time with Jenna to tell her what I'd worked out with social services."

"It's fine. Let's go." He walked silently beside her, pausing when he reached the car. "Will he be charged? Her pimp?"

"I doubt they'll get Jenna to testify. Even though he was clear with her when she got HIV that she shouldn't come back, obviously she's still hoping he'll change his mind. She wants to keep a door open into that world in case her new leaf doesn't quite turn, I think."

She reached for the driver's side door but he blocked her. "Are they all hookers?" he asked bluntly.

"Nope, not all." Kelly was encouraged by his questioning. "But the majority have prostituted themselves at some point to get by. And a few because they became addicted to the lifestyle or the vices it supported." She put her arms around him then, burying her face into his chest for a moment before asking, "Now you understand?"

He nodded. "I'll drive."

While when he thought of his experiences with paid sex he pictured faceless, consenting adults, she pictured these little girls who turned tricks to survive and who got beat up and run out by their pimps when they tested positive and became a liability. He couldn't say that he felt remorse for his actions, but he felt remorse for how it affected her. And he did understand.


	46. Broken

Yes, House understood, but he also felt rightfully threatened by that understanding, causing him to revert and react in a way that those who spent a lot of time with him had grown accustomed to as the norm but that Kelly wasn't used to in that degree.

He became a complete jerk.

If Kelly hadn't been so knocked off balance by her foray back into her old life, she would have known that he was worried. What fine, upstanding humanitarian such as herself could find room in her life for a man who's priorities were largely selfish? A man who would think nothing of supporting the sex trade with his own patronage while she was committed to rescuing people from it? And because he couldn't give voice to these things, he instead gave voice to a variety of other subjects to try to draw from her the same reaction he felt he deserved for being the terrible man that he was... and not caring enough to change.

But Kelly WAS off balance, and reacted just as he wanted her to, wanted for reasons she didn't pick up on until it was too late to matter. By the time they arrived back at her parent's house, she couldn't have been happier to get out of the car and away from him.

She went to the pool and made it clear he was not invited to join her. He went to the music room and took out his frustration on the piano before calling Cuddy at home (it was the middle of the night in Jersey) and taking out his frustration on her. While Cuddy lacked the kindness and grace towards him he'd grown accustomed to from Kelly, she also knew not to take it personally, allowing him to rage about random grievances without consequences.

Usually he took more Vicodin at times like this to escape. Tonight he denied himself even the basic amount so his physical pain would distract him from whatever else he was dealing with. At least, that's how it started. Eventually it became punishment; when the pain started to overwhelm him he wouldn't allow himself the relief. Pacing made it worse instead of better, and so he paced all the more. Around and around and around his bedroom until the steeling and cursing turned to despair and tears but he would not relent.

Kelly was oblivious to all of this. If she hadn't been compelled upon waking at 4:30 a.m. to empty her bladder before returning to sleep, she never would have seen the light under his door. And if she hadn't felt lonely in her big bed on her own despite her anger towards him, she might have ignored the light and let him stew until morning.

But she had been compelled. And she had seen the light. And she had been lonely. She let herself in without knocking.

Kelly knew brokenness. She had lost her husband. She had counseled young girls who had been abandoned, abused, lied to, raped. She had travelled widely and seen the reality that hurting people faced. She KNEW brokenness. And what she saw when she opened his bedroom door broke her again.

"Greg?"

His face was white, almost grey, but he was sweating profusely. His expression changed in recognition of her presence but he ignored her, continued pacing as though if he stopped it was all over for him.

"Greg, please."

One excruciating step after another with no destination. He was sobbing audibly now.

"Dammit, Greg. STOP!" Her own tears flowed as she literally wrestled him to a halt, removing his cane from a death grip and embracing him fiercely, struggling to support his full weight as she lowered him as gently as possible to the ground. She recognized his self-abuse and was as furious as she was sad. "What are you doing?! Why did you do this to yourself?!" He was clutching at his leg now, and she moved his hands aside so she could dig her fingers into his thigh. "Have you taken anything?" He didn't answer, so she had to assume he hadn't. She dug in all his pockets until she found the Vicodin and fumbled to open the childproof cap, unsuccessful at first. "God, help me... Jesus... please...." Finally it open and its contents spilled onto her hand. "How many, Greg? How many do I give you?"

She held one to his lips but he clenched his teeth and stubbornly refused. She screamed and raged and beat at his chest, but he wouldn't cooperate, forcing her to plug his nose until he had to open his mouth to breathe. She dropped in two pills and held him down resolutely even as he gagged. When she was sure he had swallowed, she tried to haul him to his feet. "Come on, Greg; you need to help me."

She may as well have not spoken. He was overcome by his pain and no longer saw her.

"Please, God... Please, God..." Kelly chanted over and over as she struggled to get him to his feet, but he was dead weight and she couldn't manage it no matter how hard she pulled and pleaded. "Greg? I'm going to go get Daddy."

She ran up the stairs and without waking her mother dragged her father from bed. "Daddy, I need your help. Greg's leg is really bothering him, to the point where he can't walk." She tried to stay calm and sugarcoat the matter for House's sake; he would be mortified for her father to know the truth. "I've managed to medicate him, but his muscles are all tensed up and I want to get him into a hot bath. I need you to help move him. Okay?"

Philip groggily agreed and followed her wordlessly, but when he saw House's condition with his own eyes he was immediately awake. "Dear God..." He knelt beside the younger man who was trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet and was flushed and panting from the exertion. "Hang on, Dr. House. I'll help you. Kelly, run the bath. We'll meet you in there."

In the bathroom, Kelly stripped House down to his boxers while her father held him upright. Then she stood in the tub and helped to guide him in as Philip lifted him over the edge. Once he was settled, his head propped limply on a towel and his face still contorted in pain, Philip asked what more he could do.

"Nothing for now, Daddy. Once the medicine works he should be alright to get to his room on his own power; I'll come get you if we run into any more trouble." Stepping out of the tub, she thanked him and sent him back to bed, though he was reluctant to leave her. "And please don't tell mom the gory details, alright?" she added quietly. "Let him keep his dignity."

"Of course." He hugged her tightly. "I'm just upstairs if you need me."

As soon as he was gone Kelly's tears flowed again and her panic returned. She got back into the tub, kneeling beside him and massaging his leg again. "Greg? Please talk to me..."

"Morphine," he choked out, meeting her eyes desperately.

On their second night on the road she'd found the injection kit and he had claimed it was only for emergencies. "No way. You don't get to escape."

"Please..."

She wouldn't give in. Wordlessly she kept up her effort and whether through the Vicodin, the heat of the water, the massage, or some combination, he eventually started to relax, and as he relaxed so did she.

When her fingers started to prune, she drained the tub with them still in it and dried him there. Not caring that he was watching, she removed her wet clothes and donned her terry cloth robe before helping him upright and into a robe of his own. Before tying it, she pulled down his boxers and helped him step out of them.

Getting him out of the tub was a bit of a chore, but once his feet were on the ground House was able to limp slowly with her supporting him. She pulled back the covers and made him sit on the edge of the bed.

Looking at him carefully, Kelly could tell that he was still in pain, though certainly to a lesser degree. Wanting to help him sleep, she quickly formulated a plan and ordered him to stay put as she returned to the bathroom to get what she needed.

He didn't stay put. With obvious difficulty he had made his way across the room and was digging through his belongings looking for the morphine. House put up a losing fight when she discovered him and took the small case from his hands. He cursed her and made her cry, but she didn't leave or lash out, instead guiding him back to the bed.

She pushed away the blankets and lay him down without covering him. Then she turned off all the lights except the small one on the desk which cast dim shadows around the room. When her eyes adjusted, she returned to him and placed her supplies on the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled weakly when she reached for the belt of his robe.

"Trust me," she said soothingly, pulling it open and leaving him exposed for a brief moment before laying a towel across his hips for modesty's sake. Then she squirted baby oil onto her hands, warming it between them before rubbing it into his chest and over his stomach and sides. His eyes closed and sighed.

Eventually she moved down his form and gently massaged his feet and legs, ending where she'd began in the tub with his scarred thigh and increasing the pressure.

For a moment she thought he may have fallen asleep, but that's when she saw the towel across his hips move slightly. She smiled; if his body was in a state of being able to respond to her in that way, that seemed to be a good sign.

When Kelly removed her hands from his body, his eyes fluttered open. "Don't stop."

She smiled sweetly at him as she wiped the oil from her palms and fingers on her robe and moved to stand. "You need to sleep, honey, and so do I."

He grabbed her wrist. "Please," he muttered pitifully, his exhaustion making him careless. "It hurts."

Her voice caught in her throat as she said, "I know."

Once more, neither of them were talking about his leg.

"Since you're awake, let's find you something to wear." She returned to his side with a tee-shirt and boxers and proceeded to dress him as though he was a child; he neither resisted or offered much help.

"Stay."

"I will until you fall asleep." She clicked off the lamp and climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling the covers over them both and laying across his chest.

"I'm sorry," he offered quietly as his fingers caressed the back of her neck.

"I know." She lifted herself and craned her neck to kiss him soundly, determined to make him feel loved. "We'll talk about it later."

Though if it was up to him, she doubted they ever would.


	47. Second

"You've got a great rack."

House had demonstrated many original variations of "good morning" in their time together, but this was by far the least tasteful.

Kelly didn't even open her eyes, which were covered by her left arm. "Why are you looking at my breasts?"

"It's hard not to with them right there for all to see." Her robe had come untied while she slept and was gaping open.

"You could cover me up, you know."

"Nah." He leaned closer. "B cup?"

"Greg..." With her right hand she moved to pull the blankets over her chest but he stopped her.

"One of your nipples is dimpled. When was the last time you had an exam?"

"Wow, Greg, when you 'play doctor' you really go for authenticity. I respect that." She tried again to cover herself but again he stopped her. When he touched her bare skin she jumped. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her eyes were open now and she was glaring at him.

"I'm stealing second," he deadpanned. "Relax."

Kelly didn't relax but she did stop fighting him as his fingers probed her breasts. She was surprised that it could feel so cold and clinical after all they'd been through, but he conducted the same exam she'd experienced at her family doctor.

"Hmmm... Feel this." He took her hand and guided it to what he had found.

Immediately she panicked. "I have a tumor??"

"It's just a cyst. A tumor feels different; I'd be able to tell." He went on to demonstrate the properties of the mass in order to reassure her. Then he poked her --- not so clinical --- and said, "So, was I right? B cup?"

She sat up and closed her robe, blushing. "I know; they're tiny."

"No. They're perfect."

Her insides were starting to melt when she caught on to his game and her eyes narrowed. "How long did you think you could distract me by talking about my breasts?"

"I was hoping until Wednesday." With that, he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.

Looking at the clock, she realized that her intentions to return to her own room were remiss by hours. She also noticed that his cane was leaning within arm's reach and his Vicodin bottle was on the bedside table, meaning he'd already been up. "Why didn't you wake me before?"

Unintelligible mumblings were his only answer.

"Are you feeling better? How's your leg?"

More mumbling.

"I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

No mumbling that time. He lifted his head briefly. "Can I come?"

"No."

"Really? Because I'd be willing to trade a coed shower for a frank conversation. And I know you LOVE to talk about things." After the night from hell, he found himself in fine form; the opportunity to feel her up, even in the name of a good diagnosis, had of course helped significantly with this. He was fairly certain that he could actually convince her to shower with him with a little verbal gymnastics. And why not? After his ridiculous break-down the night before he had nothing left to lose because he was sure he had nothing left at all.

"We WILL talk, Greg." And she left the room before he had a chance to press her further.

He followed, waiting outside the bathroom door until he heard the shower spring to life. He reached for the knob and to his surprise found it locked. He knocked loudly. "Gotta pee!"

She opened it a crack and peeked out, toothbrush in her mouth. "No, you don't," she said firmly around it.

"Do so."

"Then go upstairs." She tried to close the door in his face but he used his cane to prop it open.

"Hello? I'm a CRIPPLE." He moved roughly past her and limped to the sink where he grabbed his own toothbrush.

She pushed around him to spit and rinse before saying, "You're not peeing."

"Of course not. I can't do it with you watching," he told her dramatically, toothpaste foam dripping down his chin as he spoke.

She gave up then, and knowing full well he was watching her in the mirror she dropped her robe and stepped into the shower.

What a tease. House finished brushing his teeth and with a wide grin followed after her.

Or tried to. She was holding the shower door closed and doing so rather effectively. "I've seen you naked," he reminded her. "Several times. TODAY." He was thinking of earlier when she'd gotten out of the tub.

"I'm surprised you remember. You were pretty out of it," she called over the sound of the water.

"Are you trying to start a frank conversation with me? Oh, and by the way, I also remember you seeing ME naked. Several times. TODAY."

"Well, if everyone has already seen everyone naked, than why is this shower such a draw for you?"

"Because I have GOALS, remember?" He stepped out of his boxers.

She laughed then. "You already made it to second base this morning. Maybe you should pace yourself."

He pulled off his shirt. "Maybe YOU should let me in." And he reached with his cane to flush the toilet.

A word came out of her mouth that House had never imagined her saying as she was forced to jump back from the painfully hot water. And as soon as her hand came off the shower door he opened it, waiting for the temperature to return to normal before joining her.


	48. Terrified

"Greg..."

His hands went to her hips and after a quick up-and-down glance his eyes stayed on hers. "You have a really great rack."

"You said that already."

"I know, and I lived to tell the tale. I'm afraid if I try any new material I'll end up washing my hair in the sink."

"No, you'll end up dead." There was no playfulness in her voice and her eyes were stormy. "Greg, we NEED to talk."

"Frank conversation. Yeah, I know." She had used his toothpaste, so the taste of her mouth was the same as the taste of his own when he kissed her.

Kelly was conflicted: she was livid that he would be so presumptuous, saddened because she thought she knew what he was really after, and terrified that she might be wrong. And she was completely turned on.

She affected the same tone he used in his differentials and that she'd heard many times when he put himself in competition with her uncanny intuition. "You're not here because you need sex."

"You're right; I don't like to skip bases. I'm OCD that way."

She ignored him. "What you're after is intimacy. You can buy sex, but what we have isn't for sale, and you're afraid that after last night I'm going to think you're too messed up to bother with and you're going to lose it. So you're testing boundaries to see if I'm going to walk away." She crossed her arms over her chest. "My eyes are up here, Greg."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You were saying...?"

She was annoyed that he couldn't be serious and was determined to stay serious herself. "I was saying that I'm not walking away. And if us being naked together is the kind of intimacy you need to believe that, than so be it. I'd walk around without clothes all day long if that's what it took."

"That might make for some awkward times at family dinners."

She was frustrated because she wasn't sure he was absorbing what she was saying, but she chose to barrel on. "But I'm not going to have sex with you. Ever, probably. And I really feel like I'm leading you on by allowing you to be in here, so I wanted to say it right up front: there will be no sex. Period. And that is NOT meant to be a challenge."

"Not everything I do is about sex, you know," he informed her without humour. "You need to give me some credit." He wasn't sure what had made him so defensive, but he lashed out a bit more forcefully than he had perhaps intended.

"Oh, that's bull and you know it." She gestured between them to the obvious evidence. "I've just told you what you NEED, but I'm not an idiot about what you WANT."

"And what about what YOU want? Are you telling me that there's not a part of you that wants to jump me right now?"

"I'm not denying that. But just like you what I want and what I need are two very different things."

He paused. "So... what do you need?"

Kelly's voice dropped. "I need you to get out of the shower. And I need you to talk to me."

Their eyes locked for a long moment, and then he nodded, resigned.

"Thank you." She smiled to show him all was forgiven. "Now get your cute naked behind out of my sight."

He raised an eyebrow and was about to say something when she pointed at the shower door to keep him moving. He obeyed, and after drying off went back to his room and climbed into bed.

As his body calmed down and the blood returned to his brain he was forced to consider her words. And he didn't like the feeling that she may be right.


	49. Terms

"Breakfast in bed," Kelly announced cheerfully. "Time to get up, House!"

Breakfast was actually lunch. Late lunch, to be precise. House had fallen back to sleep soon after he'd returned to bed and was dead to the world until she decided he needed to eat something. Or decided she wasn't willing to let him sleep away the little time they had left together.

Setting the tray on the bed side table, Kelly threw back the covers... then hastily covered him again. "Jeez, Greg! Enough with the nudity!"

"Sorry," he mumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

"I tried to wake you earlier, but you said some words I can't repeat and took a swing at me," she deadpanned, throwing him a shirt and boxers and turning her head so he could slip them on. "It was rather shocking, actually."

Once decent, House swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He popped a Vicodin and lit into the sandwich she'd brought him with gusto. "What, no pickles?"

"My bad." She kissed his nose and stole a potato chip from his plate.

"Where are you going?"

She was halfway out the door. "I'm playing Clue with Randy and my dad. I have a system. You can come watch me win if you'd like."

"Pass."

"I thought so. See you later."

It wasn't much later, or at least not as long as he had expected. He didn't have time to hide the Harry Potter book he had taken from her room. "You couldn't have won already."

"I told you, I have a system. How's the book?"

"Shut up."

"I WILL shut up if you'll get your lazy butt out of bed."

House paused. "Just one more chapter."

"You can't hide down here forever, you know."

Damn her perceptiveness. He didn't bother to play dumb.

"I already told my dad not to mention it, so he won't. And all he told my mom was that you were having bad leg pain, which as far as he's concerned is the truth. So," she concluded, "there's nothing to hide from. If you should be hiding from anyone it should be ME, since I know that's not the truth."

"It's sad, you know. All those years of school and you never achieved anything above 'pain in the ass'." He turned his attention back to the book. "You're still young, though. There may be hope for you yet."

She stuck out her tongue at him and took the book from his hands. "Also," she continued, "there's nothing to hide from because they're gone. Randy got picked up by his social worker for a weekend visit with his dad. And my parents just left with Sarah Beth and the baby for an overnight trip to my Uncle Joe's cottage."

He eyed her incredulously. "So you're telling me that your evangelical conservative WASP parents just left their grieving widow daughter alone in their house with ME for the night?" He shook his head and mugged disappointment. "Looks like I overestimated the whole lot of you."

"Or maybe you've overestimated your own reputation as a bad ass."

Her sassy grin was contagious. "Touche." Tossing the book aside, he sat up and with some difficulty got to his feet, reaching for his Vicodin and bypassing his cane. "Well, we'd best take advantage of SOMEONE's overestimation. Let's go... do something. Something ruckus and inappropriate."

"Like have sex in my parents' bed?"

"That's not exactly what I would have suggested, but I like to keep an open mind. I'll do anything once. Or twice. Or as many times as I can before your parents come home."

She was laughing when he kissed her. "Down, boy. You're not getting any action until we have a chat about your meltdown," she told him firmly, a restraining hand on his chest.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked coyly, the hands he had rested on her hips sliding down and back.

She stepped out of his reach, but not before he'd given her a playful squeeze. "No, that was NOT a challenge. That was an ultimatum. And you know by now that I'm just as stubborn as you."

He grabbed his cane and limped from the room without explanation. She followed him silently to the bathroom and waited outside for him to do what he needed to do.

When he opened the door, he was prepared with an ultimatum of his own. "I'll trade you a heart-to-heart for your bathing suit top."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon? Are you FIVE? Do you really need a tangible reward every time you engage in a normal adult activity?"

"I remembered to flush, by the way. I expect a cookie." He walked past her and back to his room as though the matter were closed, which it most certainly was not. He pulled on a pair of shorts and changed his t-shirt while she ranted.

"Greg House, you're incorrigible. I'm serious about needing to talk this out, for both of our sakes. And I will not swim topless with you."

"Fine. You can just forego the bathing suit altogether." And he was off again.

"Where are you going?"

"To make us some dinner. The sandwich was nice, but self-punishment really works up an appetite."

Her cell phone rang in her bedroom, and she ran to answer it, finding herself locked into a long conversation with social services about one of the girls at the shelter. When she finally made it upstairs to the kitchen she was surprised to find he'd managed a passable pasta dish and salad, and had even set the table. "What's all this for?"

"I thought you might be willing to trade your bathing suit top for a nice dinner instead. And I'd be willing to throw in a long talk for free." He pulled out her chair for her in a gentlemanly gesture, which contrasted sharply with what he was asking her to do.

When he sat across from her she eyed him critically, thinking hard before giving her response. "You talk to me, seriously, and I might be persuaded to let you get to second base the honest way."

His mouth turned up slightly. "What about dinner? What do I get for that?"

"How about if it's any good, I won't kill you if you try to steal third."

He held out his hand for her to shake. "I accept your terms. Now eat, before it gets cold."

She ate, and it was VERY good.


	50. Nothing

After dinner they loaded the dishwasher and House suggested they take a leisurely trek up the coast. Safely in the driver's seat he would be able to avoid eye contact, and he kept both hands on the wheel so that she couldn't massage his fingers or draw lazy patterns in his palm as she often did to relax him when faced with stop-and-go traffic or inclement driving weather.

Today traffic was light and the sky clear, but he didn't want to relax.

Kelly let him away with silence for as long as she could stand. "Okay, Greg. Talk to me."

"Tell me what you want me to say." He wasn't being difficult. For the first time he was glad of her education and perception, because he had nothing to offer; she would have to draw it out of him.

"I want you to tell me what happened last night. You were so sweet at the shelter, but then you were suddenly... not sweet."

He said nothing, waiting for her to make the deduction on her own. He'd already decided just to agree with whatever she came up with because she was probably right and it would save him the mental energy of figuring out and owning his motives.

"Did you feel threatened? Because that's such an important element of my life that you're not a part of?"

He hummed agreeably.

"Or were you upset with yourself because you were seeing a different side of the sex trade? Maybe feeling guilty?"

He knew he SHOULD agree to that, either morally or just to appease her. But it would have been a lie. He started to feel defensive. "It's not the same; those are just messed up kids. The women I... hire... are professionals."

"The difference between hiring a reputable contractor and paying migrant workers under the table. Is that what you mean?"

"I guess. Yeah, it is."

"Okay."

Now it was her turn to fall silent, and it made him uncomfortable. In fact, it made him feel the same way he had the night before. "Don't you have something to say about that?"

"I don't know what I CAN say. Frankly, it's just baffling to me that someone could..." She stopped to gather her thoughts. "We're just very different, you and I."

House knew that Kelly was an accepting person; it was one of the things that most attracted him to her, because he knew full well that he required an extra dose of acceptance. But though she was trying he could tell that this was seriously stretching her limits. "I'm sorry." He felt sincere, though he wasn't quite sure what he was sorry for.

Kelly let it go. For now. "So you were a jerk. Because you were threatened."

He felt he owed her something, so he chose to contribute. "It became abundantly clear that to be a part of your life would mean embracing what you do. And I just don't care that much."

She wasn't put off by his calousness. "So you thought... what? That I would want to send you packing when I suddenly 'remembered' what was important to me? So you might as well just alienate me and speed up the process because otherwise I might be too polite to do the job?"

He shrugged helplessly. "While I wasn't consciously making those decisions... I'd say that pretty well sums it up."

"You're an idiot."

"That's my line."

"Not today, it's not."

She sighed heavily and dropped a hand onto his thigh. A careless gesture on her part, but it served to reassure him. It was his gratitude that prompted him to be the one to continue.

"The whole situation gave me a lot to think about. And led me to thinking about other things. And when I think, I pace."

"Why?"

He shrugged again, and glanced at her briefly. It was instantly clear to him that she'd already deduced an answer. "I don't know. But I'm guessing you do."

"I think you pace because it hurts your leg. And your mind can only deal with one hurt at a time."

He could feel her eyes boring into him, and he found himself holding back several sarcastic remarks that were fighting to leave his mouth to break the tension, to distract her and defend him from having to talk about this further. And the longer she waited and stared the harder he had to fight.

How could she have known? "I'm proud of you, Greg. For not making light of this."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "How proud?" Now it was okay.

"Proud enough to let you off the hook. Let's go home and make out."

A quick check to his mirrors and he laid on the break, causing her to squeal in alarm. Then he pulled a u-turn on the empty road and took off again, her laughter making him smile. But the smile left him quickly when she spoke again.

"When I found you... it scared me, Greg. A lot. And it makes me wonder just what kind of pain you were trying to mask by beating your leg up like that. Is it just Amber?"

"JUST?" he spat back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to minimize it. I meant, was it only Amber, or is there more you haven't told me?"

He plucked her hand from his thigh and brought it to his lips. "You said I was off the hook."

She paused. "Everybody lies."

Of all the things she could have said, his own mantra --- one she'd never heard him utter --- was the perfect reply and it made his heart jump. Impulsively, he pulled the car onto the side of the road and kissed her.

"What was that for?" she asked with a delighted grin.

He wished he could explain, but the words weren't there. So he kissed her again and shook his head. "Nothing."


	51. Rings

There should have been a spring in House's step, but his gate was laboured as he left the car. Kelly was concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Damn thing's driving me nuts."

"I'm not surprised." Her voice wasn't accusing and he took her acknowledgment in stride. "I haven't seen you take anything for the last little while."

"I might be an idiot, but I don't drive stoned."

"You practice medicine stoned."

"That's different; I'm a creative thinker when I'm hopped up, and I hire people to do the cutting and poking." He took out the bottle of Vicodin and stopped to open it.

She put a hand on his arm. "How are you at making out stoned?"

"Better than you might think," he quipped, but didn't raise the pills to his lips. "I don't have to take them..." He had offered expecting her blessing and was not pleased when she hesitated and got a funny look on her face. She had never said a word about his drug dependance and he found himself shutting down at the very thought that it might finally be addressed.

Then she sneezed, twice. "Sorry. And don't be stupid; take your meds. I'm used to kissing Stoned-House. It'd be weird to make out with Sober-House."

He took one and returned the other to the bottle, relieved and content. "Let's try for half-stoned, and see how it goes. Lead on."

They used the downstairs entrance, and House made his way to the living area and settled heavily onto the couch, reaching for the remote.

"No way," she told him. "First of all, brush your teeth. Secondly, we can watch TV but I get to choose the show. Thirdly...you should change out of those shorts and into something with a little more room."

He smirked at her proudly. "Dirty, dirty girl."

Each of them spent extra time in the bathroom; Kelly even grabbed her toiletries and went upstairs to her parents en suite to prepare herself. It was almost 30 minutes later when they met again, clean smelling and with fresh breath. House had trimmed his beard and shaved around it. Kelly ran a straightener through her hair and reapplied her lip gloss. House purposely mussed his hair because he knew she liked it that way. Kelly changed her clothes, putting on more layers so he would have some to take off. House didn't change his clothes, not even his shorts, because he knew he looked good. Kelly was full of nervous energy. House was full of excited energy.

In short, they were being ridiculous. And as soon as they sat down together, they realized it and laughed it off.

"How's your leg, honey?" He had returned first and was laying on the couch, so she lifted both his legs and sat under them, holding them across her lap. She pushed up his shorts and dug practiced fingers into his thigh.

"I'll live, muffin." He always teased her when she applied any kind of term of endearment to him. She'd insisted early on that she was used to referring to everyone as 'honey' or 'sweetheart' or 'dear', and he had to admit that being on her home turf he'd learned that it was true. But he wasn't used to anyone applying a term of endearment to HIM. Since he wasn't generally that endearing. "So, what are we watching?"

She settled on a station that was airing three episodes of 'Friends' back to back. Neither of them were particular fans, but then it didn't really matter.

Suitably relaxed, House sat up and reclined his section of the couch before patting the space beside him. She went to him easily and tucked herself into his side, sighing contentedly when his arms went around her and his head rested atop hers.

Kelly would have remained content if that was as far as it had went, but a deal was a deal. She would HAVE to make out with the ruggedly handsome doctor who looked and smelled and felt so good in that moment. Oh, the trials she endured. Turning slightly, her lips found his neck and the TV was forgotten.

House found the whole thing rather strange and foreign. The pacing was different because the goal was much different than he was used to. He had no intention of attempting to sway her from her pronouncement that this would not end with sex, because he knew that even if he succeeded she would be plenty pissed after the fact. But when was the last time for him that making out hadn't been simply foreplay? He couldn't remember.

He liked it. With her, at least. And realized that she was probably right in what she'd said that morning about his need for intimacy more than sex.

Mind you, he stopped thinking about that fairly quickly when she straddled him.

Kelly's mind was blissfully calm as she took the lead, settling onto his lap and threading her fingers through his hair as she claimed his mouth again. She laughed at the frustrated noise he made when he discovered the layers.

"You think this is going to stop me?"

"I know you like a challenge, that's all." It was all laughable, really. Just that morning they'd been naked in the shower together, and yet now they were both excited as his hands caressed her stomach and sides and finally brushed the underside of her breast through four layers of clothing.

He unzipped the thin sweatshirt she was wearing and slipped his hands inside to pull her closer, gasping when her teeth raked seductively over his ear lobe. His body's response was immediate and she shifted to accommodate.

Her sweater found the floor and so did the shirt underneath, leaving her in a tight black tank top with her pink bra straps visible. His lips found her bare shoulders and with his hands he cupped her breasts unabashedly.

She shifted again, causing him to inhale sharply. At first she thought it was a gasp of pleasure, but when his hands grabbed her hips and lifted her away she understood. "Oh, your leg! Sorry; I forgot." With some difficulty she extracted herself and sat across him instead of on him, her back leaning against the plush armrest and her legs bent over his lap.

"Thank you," he mumbled before kissing her again, his hand skimming over the skin of her calf exposed under the hem of her capris.

Everything was going along just fine until House's exploring hand trailed up her calf and past her thigh. Kelly immediately brought their activities to a halt and chastised him playfully. "Hey, now. I said I wouldn't kill you when you tried to steal third, but I didn't say I'd allow it."

"That's not third," he told her, leaning in to kiss her again and returning his hand to its destination. "That's second."

"No it's not!" she insisted, pushing him away. "You east coast men have some crazy ideas."

"I promise you it's second!" And then he went on to outline, rather graphically, his understanding of the base system.

"Whoa. Okay, that is NOT right, and definitely not what I was agreeing to."

"I swear I'm on the level!"

"Let's not fight. The Internet will know the truth," she said solemnly, reaching behind her to un-recline the recliner and getting to her feet.

"Yes, let's let the Internet decide." It was an easy concession since he imagined the Internet would MORE than side with him. And it meant moving to her room where her computer was.

House stood behind her as she sat at her desk and called up a search engine. She was choosing a result when he noticed something that he realized in retrospect he probably shouldn't have mentioned until later... or not at all. "You're not wearing your rings." Her wedding and engagement rings were always on her finger or worn on a necklace. Now her neck and fingers were bare.

He knew he'd made a mistake when her whole body seemed to stiffen. "Sorry," he said quickly, his hands going to her shoulders and gently kneading. "It's none of my business."

Kelly ordered her body and mind to relax but was less than successful. Her decision to remove her rings before their rendezvous hadn't been analyzed but it had been conscious. There was a part of her that felt it wouldn't be right to wear them. Now through his innocent observation she was questioning herself. _Focus_. "Don't worry about it. So, do we let Wikipedia decide? 'Baseball metaphors for sex'?"

"That seems fair." He sensed the change in her but didn't want to push just then for an explanation. He wasn't one to 'talk about it', anyway, but he did feel that some things needed to be said. He leaned in close to read over her shoulder.

"Oh, my word!" she exclaimed. "Okay, when I was growing up, that was NOT -"

His tone was playfully condescending as he interrupted. "When you were growing up, kids weren't having sex yet."

"Oh yeah?" she countered. "Well, when YOU were growing up, sex hadn't been INVENTED yet." She snapped her laptop shut and got to her feet. "I'm sorry, but I don't care what Wikipedia says."

"We had a verbal contract," he reminded her coyly, pinning her against the desk.

"Which I'm declaring invalid based on misunderstanding of the terms." She was smiling when she ducked under his arm and escaped him, but they both knew her reasons for forcing the separation: now thinking of Mark, she was no longer in the mood. "I have some phone calls I should really make..."

"Don't," he warned her. "Don't shut down on me. Come on, let's go watch a movie or something. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself."

The look she gave him was wary, but she didn't deny him. "Okay. I'll be right there."

'The Prisoner of Azkaban' was queuing up when she flopped down beside him. "I have you hooked on Harry Potter. Admit it."

"I'll admit nothing." He was glad to see that she hadn't added any clothes to her ensemble; her shoulders were still bare and rather than recoiling she relaxed into him when he ran his hand down her naked arm, drawing her closer.

And when his hand reached her fingers and found her rings back where they belonged, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.


	52. Snoop

The movie ended at around 7 o'clock. House was full of energy after sleeping the day away, and though Kelly was feeling weary she did her best to keep up with him. He was glad to find that their easy camaraderie was still intact as they spent some time in the music room, played a game of pool, downloaded Dr. Mario for the Wii and did battle, and carried on as they always did, flirting and bickering and touching way more than necessary --- who knew that billiards could be a contact sport? --- as the time flew by.

House wasn't oblivious to the fact that though it was she who was tired, it was also she who kept suggesting more activities, as if she was afraid of stopping and just _being_ with him. So when she excused herself to go to her bedroom and send a few emails, he didn't follow her.

Instead, he went upstairs to the main house and snooped around for the next half hour. Kelly's mom (or perhaps the person she hired? Did rich people ever clean their own houses?) kept the place immaculate, and it seemed all the 'good stuff', if there was any, was not to be easily uncovered. A few doors were locked. House realized that because they were used to having kids like Randy and Sarah Beth around, they'd probably developed ways to protect themselves against snoops and thieves. Too bad.

The most interesting thing House stumbled on was photos. Usually this would hold no interest at all but he was curious about Kelly's husband and wanted to see what he could learn about him. He skimmed through some albums but it was one of the unsorted boxes that held what he was looking for.

He found himself wondering if it was wrong to think a girl was hot in her wedding dress when you weren't the groom. He also found himself wondering what she saw in Mark. He wasn't really all that good looking, kind of tall and gangly and baby faced. He looked like a kid in his uniform, and like a geek at what House assumed was high school prom. Still, the way he looked at her...

He recognized the shelter in some of the pictures. Mark had grown up a bit after all, filled out, looked more mature. Looked tired at times, probably weighed down by Kelly's passion for the kids, one that as she described it had come to consume him, too. Still the boyish grin, though. Probably right until the end.

House wondered if Wilson had a box like this. Paper memories that would one day be priceless treasures but for now hurt too much to look at. Pictures of Amber smiling like someone convinced they had all the time in the world.

He popped a Vicodin and moved on, ending his snooping in the master bedroom.

The rest of the home, though large, didn't smack of money. It had nice things but not EXPENSIVE things, and not really more than was needed. Their bedroom seemed to be the exception to the rule. A gigantic plasma TV hung on the wall across from their gigantic Sleep Number bed (which he couldn't help but try out, careful to reset it to where he'd found it). Some classy art was on display --- originals, a few from famous painters that even he recognized --- and a large book case held some well preserved first editions.

And then there was the bathroom. "I could live here," he said aloud. It was manly and girly all at once, tastefully decorated, high tech gadgets, double sink, double shower, double tub. He opened a closet and found a whole shelf of tools for the serious bather. "Rub-a-dub-dub." And he set to work.

House found Kelly hunched over her computer looking engrossed and stressed. "Where have you been?" she asked when she noticed him watching her. "Behaving, I hope."

"Never. What's wrong with you? Your forehead's all wrinkly. Not sexy."

"Bite me. I'm working, and I'm almost a month behind with all my administrative stuff."

"You're smart and driven. And I fixed you, so now you'll be even better at your job. And you're rich, so you can outsource. So relax."

"Frig off."

"What's wrong with you? I've never seen you so wound up." His tone was accusing but his hands were gentle on her arms and shoulders.

She leaned her head back against his stomach. "Sorry. I just didn't realize how far behind I'd gotten." She opened an attachment from the vice chair of one of the boards she headed and scanned down. "Eff."

"Okay, that's quite enough." He reached over her and closed her laptop. "Come with me; I have a surprise for you."

"Greg..."

"'Greg...'" he whined, mimicking her as he yanked back her chair and tipped it to force her out. "Come on." He took her by the hand and pulled until she started to follow of her own volition.

"Greg, this is my parents room. Were you snooping?"

"Yes. Keep walking." He pushed her ahead of him into the bathroom.

She stopped abruptly, paused, and then turned and threw herself into his arms. "Thank you."

House had drawn her a bubble bath, dimmed the lights, and lit all the tea light candles he could find. He had burned incense and chosen an instrumental station on the satellite radio. And he had a Harry Potter book on the tub's edge, ready for him to read to her if she wanted.

"Hey, why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry. This has just been such a weird day. I needed this."

He kissed her forehead and stepped back, grasping the hem of her tank top. "Well then, let's get you in there." He pulled the shirt off over her head.


	53. Love

Though he'd been granted second base privileges, at least as she understood them, House neither dared nor desired to act on them. Her shirt dealt with, he unbuttoned and unzipped her capri pants and held her arm to balance her as she slipped out of them. He intended to let her deal with the little that was left, but was taken aback when she reached for his belt.

Kelly was taken aback when he stopped her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Turning her around, he undid her bra but let her do the work to remove it before tracing a finger along the edge of the waistband of her pink printed underwear. "These are cute. Take them off."

She chuckled. And then she was naked and accepting his help to step into the tub.

"I'm not sure where this fits in with the baseball metaphor, but you CAN join me, you know," she offered as she settled into the water and leaned back on the rolled up towel he supplied to support her neck.

"You'd end up hating me because I'm far too beautiful to resist in my natural state," he deflected.

"Funny, seems to me I managed just fine this morning."

"A fluke." Perching on the edge of the tub, he stuck his hand into the water to make sure the temperature was holding. "Want some orange juice? Or a soda?"

"What I want is for you to get in the tub. Or at least to know why you won't."

"Two naked bodies is about sex," he told her evenly. "One naked body is about intimacy."

She gave him a look, one he accurately judged was a cross between pride and amusement. "You're awfully cute when you're trying to be wise."

"I am wise. I was wise enough to keep you around despite the fact that you're annoying as hell."

"That's not wisdom, that's common sense."

"Hmm... That's not something I'm often accused of possessing."

"No, dear, you're thinking of common DECENCY."

He opened his mouth to respond, but he looked into her grinning face and was suddenly overcome by a wave of tenderness.

"What is it, Greg?"

"I was just thinking I'm a lucky son of a bitch."

Her insides turned to mush, but she kept it light for his sake; these moments of self-expression didn't come often or easy from him, and she didn't want to do or say anything that would discourage future disclosures. But still her expression softened as she replied, "Maybe you ARE wise after all."

House stood to break the moment. "I'll read to you if you want."

"Of course I want," she encouraged with a smile.

And retrieving the book he sat on the floor with his back against the tub. Tilting the pages towards the lights of nearby candles, he read until his eyes were feeling the strain. And then they talked about her work, about her place at the shelter, about how she knew she needed to return. And they talked about his work, and his fear of returning and finding that everything had changed, and his inability to stay away. They talked until the water was uncomfortably cool and even longer because she sensed this was a special time of transparency for them both.

And when finally she had to get out of the water she wrapped herself in a towel and sat beside him to talk some more. Until finally one of them worked up the nerve to ask the inevitable question: "So what is this? Between us?"

It was he who had asked it, and at her silence he who attempted first to answer. "You're like my Wilson, pre- me killing his girlfriend, only better. But you also have a vagina, and that confuses things for me."

"I wouldn't have put it so crassly, and obviously I've never killed anyone's girlfriend, but I could have made a very similar statement."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Huh."

There was a long pause filled by the soft music still coming from the radio. "I think I like you being naked more than I like the idea of US being naked," he finally admitted.

As she let that sink in, understanding that he meant he preferred their special brand of friendship over trying for something more, her pride at his thinly veiled maturity was almost pushed out by a feeling of rejection which she fought to control. But she didn't fight hard enough to keep her from asking, "Why?"

"Because..." He exhaled loudly. "Isn't this usually the part where you use your ESP and tell me what I'm thinking?"

It was, but her mind wouldn't allow her to go there. "Sorry, my dear. I think you'll need to do this one on your own. Please."

The final plea was so small and shaky that House understood the reason behind her question. "You made me promise. And I've never been good at keeping promises, but this one seemed important. And I'm glad I did. Because you're not ready, and it's not what you need."

Kelly was surprised by his deduction and confused by his preamble. "Whoa, back up. What did I make you promise?"

"That I wouldn't fall in love with you. Don't you remember?"

It took her a moment, but she did. "I'm surprised YOU remembered."

"I remember everything." House was uncomfortable in more ways than one. He struggled to his feet. "I can't sit like this anymore. Why don't you go get ready for bed while I clean up in here." It wasn't a question. He offered her a hand to help her up. "And stay away from your computer. I mean it."

She saluted weakly. "Aye aye." Holding on to her towel and picking up her clothes on the way out, she let him be, recognizing dismissal.

Not that she could fault him; she needed a few minutes herself to get alone with her thoughts. As per their agreement reached on their trip home, she hadn't devoted much thought to their...whatever it was. They had decided to just let it evolve on its own and had done so, but now with his departure looming closer it was natural that the questions be asked again.

Questions he seemed to have already answered for her. But was her grief over Mark just an excuse for him to keep himself in check? And if not, was his restraint for his benefit or hers? If it was the latter, then she had some choices to make. But if it was the former, it wasn't going to be about choices; it was going to be about the passage of time.

The passage of time apart.

He found her deep in contemplation, and sensing it necessary sat on the opposite end of the couch instead of gathering her into his arms as he wanted to.

Apparently he sensed wrong. Not a moment had passed before she crawled over to him and tucked herself into his side. "Hey."

"Hey." There was that tender feeling again. He covered the hand that rested on his thigh with his own. "Is it bedtime for you, or do you want to watch another movie?"

She handed him the remote. "Movie's in. Let's do it."

More Harry Potter. He didn't bother to defend himself.

Before he pressed play, though, he felt as though something should be settled. "Do you want to talk about it?" he ventured.

She leaned her body into his and rested her head on his shoulder. "No."

"Okay." But instead of skipping through the previews, he muted them and let them roll, giving them some extra time. "Are you sure?"

"No." A sigh. "Do YOU want to talk about it?"

"Not necessarily. I just want to do whatever needs to be done to keep me from fucking this up."

"Language..." she warned automatically, though she recognized that his failure to filter was a reflection of an important line of thinking being accessed and expressed for the first time.

"Oh. Sorry."

"I'll forgive you, since I think what you're trying to tell me --- in your own way --- is that you care about me and what we have together."

"No, actually I was trying to tell you --- in my own way ---" he mimicked, "that I'm becoming accustomed to the high life and I don't want to screw up my chances for future all-expenses-paid oceanside vacations." He pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch and arranged it over her, adding, "I would have no problem just saying outright that I care about you and what we have together."

"Yeah, I'll believe THAT when I see it."

She hadn't meant it as a challenge, but he pressed pause and shifted so he could look her in the eyes, taking both her hands in his own. "Kelly Campbell Janes," he gushed in an over-sincere voice, "of all the bossy, over-stepping know-it-alls I've ever been forced to spend time with, you are among the least annoying." He kissed her nose and his voice returned to normal. "And I like your boobs."

She smiled sweetly, patting him on the head as though he were a child. "That's very nice, Greg," she told him condescendingly. "And for what it's worth, of all the gimpy drug addicted bastards who have trouble keeping their clothes on, you're my number one favourite."

His lips brushed hers chastely. "I love you, too." And he meant it.


	54. Confusion

By the time the movie was over Kelly was sleeping, her head resting on a pillow in his lap and her body stretched the full length of the couch. House wished he had two good legs so he could carry to her bed, but he knew that the amount of Vicodin it would take to allow him to achieve that feat, such as he was, would serve to make it impossible on another level: he'd be pain-free but too stoned to walk.

Two options remained: get her comfortably settled for the night on the couch, or wake her so she could come to bed on her own. Option one would have been the humane choice, but he'd grown accustomed to not sleeping alone.

"Kelly, it's time to go to bed." No response. "Kelly, bedtime. Come on." Unintelligible mumbling. Slipping out from under her, he crouched down painfully beside the couch and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose. Still nothing. Tempted to pull her hair or sit on her, he settled on a kinder approach, though only slightly. He pulled the blanket off her body and grabbed her legs, pulling them sideways and off the couch. "Up!" he ordered.

That method did the trick; she was cranky and confused, but awake. "You've really got to work on your bedside manner..." she muttered as he marched his bleary-eyed bedfellow to her room and tucked her in. Thankfully, it didn't take her long to fall back to sleep. Rubbing gentle circles on her back, he waited until her breathing was slow and even before leaving her to get ready for bed himself.

He dawdled over his nightly routine, more wired than he should have been after the excitement of the previous night. He wished he could drink; alcohol had been used to dull his active mind on many lonely nights when his thoughts were racing.

This night he had no reason to be lonely, but he did have much to think about.

A forced encounter, an accidental patient, an unexpected friend, a summer fling. All leaving him wondering if he'd ever be the same again. If things had been altogether different, he would have worked his way into her pants and spent their whole two weeks convincing her it was alright. But things weren't different, and even he wasn't so callous as to push himself on a widow when she so obviously still grieving her husband.

Yet why not? He'd be gone in a few days, and there were really no consequences for him. He could have put up with her days of moralizing and inner struggle if the nights had made it worth it.

That meant it wasn't about HIM. It was about HER, and wanting what was best for her. But what could prompt this unlikely unselfishness? Maybe it was because she never tried to change him, and yet drew out the best in him. Maybe it was because what they had together was exciting and fulfilling in and of itself, making sexual conquest a lesser draw.

Maybe it was because as much as he wanted to sleep with her, he needed her friendship more. And if he was honest with himself, he could admit that he only wanted to sleep with her because she was pretty and present. For House, where there had been love in the past there had also been physical intimacy, but they weren't connected for him. Sex was something that could be finagled from a stranger at a bar or bought and sold. Love was a different animal altogether.

House did love Kelly, and he hadn't been lying to her when he said it was confusing. Because he loved her with the deep and genuine affection of friendship like he'd felt he'd never known before, though in reality he had that with Wilson but would never have described it even to himself in such flowery terms --- he would have used words like "brotherhood" and "comraderie". But Kelly wasn't Wilson; she was a pretty young woman who liked to cuddle and who sometimes let him touch her breasts. No wonder it was confusing.

He also never liked to share a bed with Wilson if he could help it.

House made his way back into her bedroom in the dark, his cane catching the edge of a freestanding lamp stand and making a loud noise. He cursed when she stirred. Stripping down to his boxers, he climbed into bed next to her. Immediately Kelly snuggled in close, her hand sliding up his stomach to his bare chest and resting over his heart. "Hey," she greeted quietly.

"Hey. Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I WAS sleeping. Some noisy klutz woke me up."

"Get over it."

She craned her neck so she could kiss him lazily, sliding her tongue over his. "If you're still all for de-sexualizing our relationship, you should have been more quiet. You know how I can be when I'm this tired."

He did know. A few nights into their trip she'd woken up just after midnight to find him reading, and after about 10 minutes of quiet talk and tenderness she had essentially propositioned him. Luckily for her he'd had the sense to laugh off her advances and tuck her into her OWN bed until morning. An embarrassed Kelly had eventually admitted that when she was married, late at night when she was at her sleepiest had proven prime time for her libido.

"We can fool around if you want," he offered without a hint of playfulness or anything else she might of expected in his voice.

"'Fool around'? What, are we fifteen?" She laughed through a yawn.

"Fifteen, huh? This morning you accused me of being five. Looks like I'm growing up."

"Yeah, the mark of a grown-up is to offer to fool around with someone as an act of self sacrifice. So much for valuing 'intimacy'."

If Kelly had been fully awake she never would have made light of his earlier transparency. Thankfully, House was getting tired too and didn't react as he might have otherwise. "Hey, now, I meant what I said before."

"But you've changed your mind?"

"Not in the least; I didn't offer to go steady or father your children. We ARE both grown ups, and I think we can handle the separation between a little innocent fun in the night and a meaningful friendship during the day."

"Doctor, if you're about to tell me that EVERYONE has these urges and it's natural to -"

If only he'd known a few weeks ago how easy it was to shut her up.


	55. Release

_This chapter is rated a mild M for a non-explicit description of a sex act. However, it is more assuredly NOT about sex._

House was again content to let her take the lead, though by no means did that render him passive; where she led, he willingly and enthusiastically followed. He was however obliged to stop her when an exploring hand slipped under the waistband of his boxer shorts. "That's not second base," he chided, firmly relocating her hand to a safer location.

"It is according to the Internet," she countered. But she humoured him for a few minutes before trying again.

"Okay, slugger, that's quite enough of that." He rolled upright and straddled her body, pinning her arms down on the bed with his own. "I don't know that I'm exactly qualified, but I'm appointing myself the guardian of your integrity, one night only. So be forewarned: next time you may not be so lucky."

"Spoiled sport." Any further complaint was quieted by his lips on hers.

Soon they traded places to relieve the stress on his leg. He pulled off her shirt, which had ridden up so far under the questing of his hands that it was no longer serving a purpose anyway. He loved the feeling of her bare skin against his as she rested her full weight on him. Running his fingers over her back he found the sutures and he remembered how it had all began. This meant something.

This meant something.

When her hips started to move atop his in an approximation of the act he was trying to avoid, with great difficulty he remained still but made a conscious decision not to stop her. Even as his body responded to the friction, he knew this wasn't what they were about. Let biology do what it must; it wouldn't change things for him tomorrow. And though he expected she would feel conflicted when the moment had passed and reality set in, in his opinion it was better for her to face it with someone she could trust to love her anyway and allow her to discover where she really stood.

Later, he would come to realize that this was the most emotionally mature decision he had ever made.

Her movements increased and her lips left his, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as she focused her efforts. His hands found her hips and he let her ride it out until she began to shudder with release.

He didn't speak, and he didn't move except to press a kiss to her forehead so she would know it was alright. When she slid off of him and trailed a hand down his stomach once more, he faltered for only a moment, allowing himself to revel in the feeling of her fingers wrapped around him just long enough to reaffirm that this was most definitely what he wanted but not remotely what either of them needed.

So he took her hand and kissed it, placing it back over his heart where it had began. And he was ready when the tears came, holding her tightly against him and perfectly willing to never let go.

"I miss him so much..."

"Of course you do. And you should."

"I'm sorry Greg... I'm so sorry..."

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I... I don't feel good. I need to..."

He felt no pain of his own as he helped her the short distance to the bathroom without the aid of his cane. Perhaps she'd been more right than she'd realized when she said his brain could only register one source of pain at a time. And right now he was feeling hers.

Arriving just in time, she retched into the sink but her stomach produced nothing.

One of his tee-shirts, discarded before a shower a few days before, was hanging on the back of the door. He pulled it over her half naked form. When she retched again, he sat down with her in front of the toilet, holding her in his lap. Still she cried, and when there was nothing left in her stomach she cried some more.

House flushed the toilet and helped her to her feet, holding her as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. Holding her as she made her way back to her room. Holding her as she lay awake, unable to get the tears to stop, not wanting them to stop, releasing the anguish and uncertainty and loss that had plagued her for nine long months.

This release was much more important than the first.


	56. Good

House awoke feeling pretty damn good about himself and his life. He'd done the right thing, he'd been worthy of her trust, and he no longer felt like an idiot about his own meltdown because now they were even.

He also awoke alone, which troubled him for only the few minutes it took for him to find the note taped to the bathroom mirror. "Went to church. Back before noon; want to go out for lunch? Thanks for last night. xoxo" Feeling REALLY damn good about his life. Whistling, he stepped into the shower.

A half an hour later he was clean, dressed and ready to go. At 11:45 he went out onto the porch to wait for her. The weather was hot and sunny, but he didn't mind. He surveyed the yard and the neighbourhood with new eyes and whistled some more.

She drove up at 11:50. Seeing him waiting, she parked along the street and got out of the car to meet him, leaning against the passenger door as he approached much slower than necessary. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey yourself." She looked very pretty in the airy floral print skirt and white shirt she was wearing, and he expressed that to her; his language was characteristically crass but she recognized the genuine sentiment.

"Thanks. I almost never dress up for church, but every once in awhile I like an excuse to be a girl."

He stopped about three feet from her and waited.

"Greg... About last night..." She blushed and looked away. "I just...I feel kinda ridiculous about the whole thing..."

He shrugged and said casually, "Seems to me everyone should be entitled to an emotional crisis every once in awhile. I've had mine, you've had yours. Life goes on."

What had she been afraid of? She stepped easily into his arms. "You really suck at being a 'mean bastard', Greg House. You may just have to turn over a new leaf when you get home."

"Not bloody likely." He took her face in both of his hands and gave her a small, tender smile before releasing her and accepting the car keys. "So, where are we going?"

"It's only a few blocks over. And I should warn you we're meeting a friend of mine from my high school days who's been up for the week with her husband. I saw her at church and she suggested we all do lunch. I hope that's okay. I haven't seen her since the funeral, and we hadn't had a good talk for about 6 years before that."

It might NOT have been okay if he wasn't feeling so damn good about his life. But he was, and so it was, and so they went.

Danny and Erica McPherson were nice enough by House's estimation. Young, to be certain. Not all that interesting in the way that he liked people to be interesting. But he did like watching Kelly interact with her friend, animated and relaxed and occasionally resting a hand on House's thigh between bites.

During most of the meal, the women caught up on their lives and the men listened politely, interjecting when the mood suited them but focusing mostly on their food. They had nearly finished up dessert when Erica's husband asked, "So Greg, how long have the two of you been seeing each other?"

The question didn't phase him in the least. "We're actually not together."

"Oh, I'm sorry... I just assumed... Sorry." House suspected he'd just remembered Kelly's recent widow status.

"No problem," Kelly assured him. "Greg and I just met a few weeks ago out east. He needed some time away, and I needed someone to drive home with after a recent surgery out there, and the rest is history."

The cheque arrived and House grabbed it before anyone else had a chance. "I'll take care of it," he said as he stood and followed the waiter to the cash register. Danny excused himself to use the washroom.

"Your friend seems nice," Erica broached, hoping for the real story.

"Yeah, Greg's a sweetheart." _In his own way. When he wants to be. In small doses._ _If you like the tall, crippled, asshole type_. All could have been added but did not even cross her mind.

A pause. "Too soon?" Erica hesitantly questioned.

"Most definitely," Kelly told her, not at all offended that she would ask. "He actually has a woman he's interested in back home, though he keeps trying to convince me he doesn't. I've met her; I think they'll be great together if he'll just do something about it." She took a thoughtful sip from House's iced tea, which was only half empty. "But he's been a God-send these last few weeks. Just what I needed."

Erica grasped her hand. "I'm really glad you're alright. You ARE alright, aren't you? This isn't just some elaborate act you've got down to perfection."

Kelly laughed. "No, I'm alright. Finally."

The men returned and they all walked together to the parking lot.

"You guys want to come over for the afternoon?" Kelly asked.

"We'd love to, but vacation's over; we both have to be at work in the morning, and we have almost a seven hour drive ahead of us." They lived outside of LA and worked in the city. "But I hope we can do this again next time we're in town," Erica added sincerely.

"Actually," Kelly told her, "I'll be living back in Sacramento, but I'm in LA on business all the time. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."

The strangers shook hands, and the old friends embraced. And then House and Kelly were alone.

"Moving back to the shelter?" he asked.

"Yeah. I can't stay away. And I know that now, thanks to you."

"What can I say? Doctor, guru... I'm a man of many skills."

"So I've heard." She took his hand and walked with him toward the car, throwing him a coy look as she continued. "Maybe I'll let you try out a few more of your 'skills' before you leave..."

Damn, DAMN good. "My God, woman, you must have had a hell of a time in confession this morning."

"I'm Baptist, Greg; we don't do confession."

"Well then, maybe you'd better convert. It seems I've corrupted you." He opened the passenger door for her. "And it's about time; with only three days to spare!"

She touched his arm and said, "Thanks for lunch," before taking her seat.

"Well, it cost me about 60 bucks... which brings my grand spending total for this whole trip up to..." He paused dramatically. "60 bucks. I'm expecting to be paid back with sexual favours."

Even as he continued to outline just what forms of payback he would consider equitable, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Her breakdown had proven cathartic and healing. Her morning in worship had affirmed that her faith was strong and she was not alone. And like House had just pointed out, she still had "three days to spare" with the doctor/guru/friend sitting next to her.

She was feeling pretty damn good about herself and her life. And for the first time in a long time she felt like things could only get better.


	57. Gratitude

The rest of the day passed all too quickly: a few hours in the music room, an hour in the kitchen making dinner for the crew on their way home, and hour in the dining room eating it together, a half hour of clean up, and then everyone in the pool except Colleen who was content to read in a lounge chair while she minded the baby.

Everyone was exhausted, and everyone went to bed early. House went to Kelly's bed and while she lay awake reading fell asleep, his head on her shoulder. So peaceful. So relaxed.

So short-lived. The voice that called him quietly from sleep was not Kelly's but her mother's. "Dr. House? I'm sorry to disturb you, but would you come and take a look at Philip? He's not feeling well."

Two things immediately registered before he had even shook away the fog of his slumber. The first was that she sounded extremely concerned. The second was that she'd just found him in bed with her daughter. He wasn't sure which worried him more.

Without waking Kelly (and thankful that his attire was completely modest for once, having worn pajama pants and a tee-shirt to bed), he retrieved his cane and followed her wordlessly upstairs, listening to her list her husband's symptoms.

"He's blaming indigestion and muscle strain from swimming, but..."

They found Philip in the kitchen, looking through a drawer. "Honey, where are the Rolaids?" When he saw House he gave his wife a disapproving look. "I appreciate everyone's concern, but really, I'm fine." Yet even as he said it, his hand went to his chest and he grimaced.

"You'd better let me take a look." And when Philip didn't protest, House knew what he had to do. "Colleen" -- he addressed her by her first name without thinking -- "how far is the hospital from here?"

"15 or 20 minutes."

He sat Philip on the couch and was taking his pulse. The older man had started to sweat. "You'd better call 911 and have them send an ambulance." He saw the panic in her face. "Just as a precaution. And get some Aspirin if you have any."

She was off the phone and crushing up the Aspirin as instructed when Philip passed out and House lowered him to the floor. When he checked for breath sounds and found none, he began CPR. Colleen was sobbing but House didn't spare the time to reassure her. 15 compressions. Two rescue breaths. 15 compressions. Two rescue breaths. Check for pulse. Continue compressions.

By the time the EMT's arrived, House was spent and his arms were shaking from the strain and emotional stress. But the man was also breathing again. Shallowly, but breathing.

Colleen was to travel in the ambulance, and she gave House the instruction to let Randy and Sarah Beth sleep, but to wake Kelly and have her call her brother.

House dressed first, and back in Kelly's room used the light shining in from the den to go through her drawers and find clothes for her as well. Then he ran out of excuses to put it off.

She didn't cry, and she wouldn't let him hold her. Instead she sprang into action, half-dressed and dialing the phone, sending him to write a note for the kids upstairs and to start the car. And on the way to the hospital she didn't say a word except to tell him where to turn.

Only when she entered the ER exam room and saw her father was conscious did she relax enough to cry, going first to her mother's arms and then to House's, where she stayed as the doctors worked. House provided commentary for the women, translating the medical language flying around the room, doing all the talking when Philip was stabilized and the attending doctor approached them.

"It was lucky that you were there, Dr. House. If you hadn't started CPR right away... Anyway, we're going to try to avoid surgery by doing an angio and inserting a stent..."

Philip was wheeled past them then on the way to radiology. He reached out for Colleen's hand and pulled her along with him, leaving House and Kelly alone.

"You did CPR?" That was the first Kelly had heard of it.

House just shrugged.

"You saved his life."

"You know CPR; you would have helped him."

Kelly ignored him. "You saved my dad's life," she repeated, tears returning to her eyes. "Thank you, Greg."

He shrugged again, allowing himself to be thoroughly kissed.

Andrew, the eldest child, arrived during the procedure, having chartered a plane from LA to the small airport nearby. House was the first to see him; he recognized him from pictures. He said nothing, however, and Andrew would have walked right on by if he hadn't seen Kelly sleeping across the stranger's lap.

"You're Dr. House."

"Andrew," House greeted, his face betraying surprise that he was known to this man. He looked more like Kelly in person than in photos.

"I've been following your adventures on my sister's Facebook," Andrew explained, extending a hand and enveloping House's in a firm shake. "What's my father's status? Where's my mother?"

House answered all of his questions while Kelly slept on, not stirring until her mother returned. There was more crying and embracing, then more pacing and dozing and praying and bad coffee and waiting. Until the doctor returned and the prognosis was delivered.

"He came through the procedure just fine and it seems to have corrected the blockage. We expect a full recovery, and at this point he won't need surgery."

"Thank God," House heard in stereo, and he found himself heaving a great sigh of relief. And gratitude.


	58. Goodbye

Day broke, and House was drafted into service by Colleen to drive Randy and Sarah Beth to summer school and to call the list of babysitters to find someone to mind the infant. The drive was successful, but the calling was not. Following Sarah Beth's written list (meant for the babysitter) to the letter, House had endured two feedings and three diaper changes before the Campbell's, minus Philip, arrived home.

"No luck finding a sitter, huh?" Kelly removed the sleeping infant from the chest of the dozing House who was propped up and stretched out on his bed.

"I'd share some choice words, but I don't want to corrupt the young crap factory. Does that thing have a name, by the way?"

"Eli."

"Whatever."

Colleen entered the room then and gushed all over the doctor who'd saved her husband and then dealt with diapers. He tried, "You're welcome", "It was nothing", "Anything to help", and several variations of a humble expression, but nothing placated her until he stood to accept a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Well," she said finally, "I suppose you two will be leaving soon for the city. Be sure to come upstairs to say goodbye before you do."

House raised an eyebrow in Kelly's direction and when her mother was gone she explained. "Your flight leaves at 9:05 from Sacramento. It's a two hour drive to get there, plus security, so I had Eric book a suite at Le Rivage. It's about 15 miles from the airport. I could have got you in the Four Points, but I think you'll like Le Rivage - very ritzy."

He just shrugged. "Without you there I'll probably -"

"Why wouldn't I be there?"

House's eyes lit up. "I thought you'd want to stay here with your dad."

"My dad is going to be fine thanks to you. So you won't be rid of me until your plane leaves the gate."

They did stop at the hospital on their way out of town however, at Kelly's insistence. "My dad made me promise," she'd told him, "and trust me, he has ways of getting what he wants, so it's easiest just to do what he asks."

After a few minutes of pleasantries Kelly was expelled from the room by her father and Philip motioned for House to approach his bedside.

"I don't think I need to tell you how grateful I am for what you did for me."

"No, sir."

"And I get that you were just doing your job and all that. So let's not linger there."

"Yes, sir."

"But I would be remiss if I let you leave here without thanking you for what you did for my daughter."

"That was still just doing my job."

"No, I'm not referring to restoring her physical health, though I'm certainly grateful for that as well." Philip struggled to sit up, and House helped him manage the bed controls. "Dr. House, you saved her life in more ways than one. And my wife and I - " His voice caught in his throat, and it took him a moment to compose himself. House looked away, embarrassed and yet warmed by the sentiment. "My wife and I will never be able to thank you enough for bringing our little girl back to us, whole and happy." Philip offer his hand and when House grasped it he held on. "You are always welcome here, you understand? And anything you need, you just let us know."

House merely nodded, not trusting himself to respond. But Philip seemed to understand.

"God bless you, Greg. And safe travels."

House continued in silence as he left the hospital room and found Kelly waiting down the hall. He took her hand and she let him be.

He drove the first hour and she the second, both exhausted but determined. And when they arrived at the hotel it was like they had jumped back in time a week, travelers bent on enjoying every moment of their stay, making it part of the adventure.

Yet after the gourmet meal and the pampering in the spa, they found their way early to their room, and for all they had shared together in the past month it was only then that things became truly awkward between them.

Kelly's first clue that House shared her uncertainties was that he locked the bathroom door when he was in the shower.

House's first clue was when she told him straight out how she was feeling. "Greg, I'm kinda freaking out. Is that weird?"

"No."

She was sitting cross legged on the bed, the covers thrown back. She was fully clothed. He was bare chested and bare foot, a towel around his waist and his hair wet and spiky from the shower. And he was standing as far from her as he could get without leaving the room altogether. Neither moved, and neither could seem to find the right words to continue.

Finally: "I guess I'll take my shower now."

"Okay." But he didn't move until she was safely in the bathroom. And after a long pause he didn't miss the sound of her locking the door behind her.

"Dammit," he muttered. His mind continued to mull over earlier reasonings. Yes, it was too soon NOW, but time marched on. To push now when they were both vulnerable might mean an end. To show patience now might leave things open for later times... or it might seal the distance and merely usher in a long and permanent goodbye.

Kelly was dealing with the same internal struggles, weighing the same options. But she was sending him home to a woman he had obvious feelings for. A woman his own age and with similar life experience. A woman he had much in common with and would never have to ask him to change his whole value system to fit into her life.

Was it fair to ask him to wait? Wait for a time when she was able to remove her wedding rings without guilt and put Mark's memory to rest? Perhaps it would be fair if she could assure him the time would come. This year. This decade. Ever?

She turned off the water and left the shower stall. She brushed her teeth, she blow dried her hair, all with deliberate slowness. She might have stayed holed up in the bathroom forever if he hadn't pounded on the door. "What?"

"Gotta pee."

"No you don't."

"Yeah I do."

She fastened the terry cloth hotel robe at the waist and opened the door. "No, you don't."

"No, I don't." And with resolve he brought his lips to hers.

The next words to pass between them some time later were, "Do you have a condom?"

"No. I purposely..." It had seemed like such a valiant decision at the time. "No, I don't."

She sighed with as much frustration as relief. "Thank God."

So they sought release by other means. Finally sated, skin to skin and a tangle of limbs, House couldn't help but point out: "According to Wikipedia, that was only second base, which I earned fair and square. So I refuse to feel guilty. Just so you know."

And when she laughed and kissed him and settled down to sleep, any worry that might have resurfaced in House's mind was banished. He slept deep and well, waking only once to pull her closer.

They didn't talk about it until they were sitting in the terminal waiting for the flight to board. ("Wait; why are you allowed past security?" "My dad may have contributed some money to the airport's renovations a few years ago." "Really." "And he may also own some stock in the airline you're flying with today." "Remind me to send him a bill for my medical services...") A flight attendant had already informed House that he could pre-board whenever he wished --- this was even before the other first class passengers had been paged --- but he chose to wait until the last possible minute.

He told himself it was for her sake. And he'd been lying to himself long enough that it was easy to believe.

"So what now?" It was she who asked the question.

"I'd say that's up to you."

She was standing at the large windows overlooking the tarmac, watching planes take off and land. He remained seated, watching her.

"If things were different..."

House's memory harkened back to their first night together.

_"Do you believe in fate?"_

_"You mean, do I believe that something conspired to take my husband's life through a series of unrelated events and made me the unwitting catalyst? Or are you asking me if I blame myself?"_

"If things were different, we never would have met." He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm going to get on the plane. And tomorrow if you decide you want to bear my love child, you know where to find me."

"And if tomorrow you decide that this was just a fling and we should move on?"

"You're hot and you're loaded. Both factors make that scenario very unlikely."

She laughed in spite of herself. "And if tomorrow *I* decide that this was just a fling and we should move on?"

Several humorous and completely inappropriate remarks presented themselves for expression. But when he paused and she turned in his arms to face him, all he managed to say was, "I know you well enough to believe you've got more sense than that."

They didn't kiss, but held each other tightly until he had no choice but to let go. As though they'd both determined nothing else needed to be said, it wasn't until House was about to turn the corner and enter the plane that she called to him.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Goodbye."

_"The answers are "no". And "sometimes", depending on the day. But not today. Usually I don't regret my request. But I always regret not having made the last moment count, to feel like there was closure. After that day, I promised myself that whenever I was with someone I cared about or was starting to care about, I would always be sure to say "goodbye", just in case."_

She too must have been remembering their first night together. He could hear the meaning in her voice, and while he nodded to show that he understood, he didn't reply.

He didn't want closure. And they had already made the moment count.


	59. Different

After experiencing first class like he never had before and being treated like royalty during the plane change and brief layover in Phoenix, House was less than enthused about the prospect of returning to life as he knew it.

As he waited for his personal flight attendant --- yes, PERSONAL flight attendant; Philip had certainly pulled out all the stops --- to retrieve his checked luggage while he enjoyed a moment of quiet reflection, he wondered if he had made a mistake in taking Cuddy up on her offer to drive him home from the airport.

But when he saw her enter the room, saw her face light up in recognition when she spotted him, allowed her to hug him warmly in welcome...

Yes, he had definitely made a mistake.

"Here are your bags, Dr. House. I can take them to your vehicle if you'd like." The attendant greeted Cuddy with a polite nod.

"That's fine; I've got it from here. Thanks for all your help."

Cuddy was too confused at this treatment to be shocked that he seemed genuinely thankful for it. "Did you play the cripple card or something?" she asked as the attendant walked briskly away.

"Or something."

The drive to Plainsboro took about an hour, and House was content to let her talk, catching him up on all that had happened in his absence. He appreciated that she didn't bother to grill him about his trip, knowing full well he wasn't going to talk about it. But when they pulled up to the curb in front of his place, she couldn't help but ask, "So... did you get what you wanted out of your trip?"

"Let's just say I'm waiting for the results to come in," he told her, revealing nothing. But as he reached for the door handle he paused, then turned back to her. "But I did get what I needed, I think."

Cuddy examined him carefully and then smiled, believing him. "I'm glad to hear it."

She helped him remove his luggage from the back seat but didn't move to follow him up the sidewalk. "I expect you to be at work tomorrow. No excuses. And on time would be nice, for once."

"I make no promises." A smile --- a SMILE? "Thanks a lot for the ride."

This second expression of authentic gratitude registered. "Uh... you're welcome. I'll, uh... I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"Yeah." He hefted the backpack to his shoulder and raised the handle on his wheeled suitcase. "Goodbye, Cuddy," he said with a tone of meaning she couldn't understand.

"Bye, House." And shaking her head, she drove away considering that whatever had happened on his trip, there was something altogether different about him. She wondered if it would last.

He wondered, too.

-------------------------------------THE END------------------------------------------


	60. Epilogue

_A/N - I have gone back through this story and cleaned it up in preparation for continue my effort at the sequel, listed under "Altogether Different: Home for the Holidays". But I felt like this also needed to be said:_

Kelly was awoken from a sound slumber by the telephone on her bedside table. A glance at the clock had her fearing the worst, and she answered expecting the dire news that usually would accompany a call coming at four in the morning. "Hello?"

"I kissed her."

"Greg, are you drunk? And do you have any idea what time it is here?"

"Yes. And... oh, shit. Yes. Sorry."

"Language..." she reminded him warningly, switching on a light and moving the phone to her other ear.

"But I kissed her."

Kelly suddenly felt a little sick to her stomach. She swallowed. "You kissed Cuddy?"

"Yeah," he slurred. "And then I ran like hell to get out of there."

"Okay. Um... Did she kiss you back."

"Did she ever."

She had selflessly encouraged this, especially when he'd seemed to withdraw part of himself from her. She'd chastised him about being an ass to Cuddy. She'd called him out on his attraction and assured him of Cuddy's when he'd complain about things she'd done recently. She'd dared him to make a move.

And apparently she hadn't meant a word of it.

"Well... Well, that's good, isn't it?" Breathe.

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me."

There was so much she could tell him. "Sounds to me like you're too drunk to remember much of this conversation in the morning, there, partner. Maybe this should wait until you've sobered up and I've gotten some sleep." As if she'd be able to sleep tonight.

He mumbled something unintelligible and laughed to himself.

"Greg, go to bed."

"Okay. But Kelly?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'd rather be kissing you."

And at that drunken confession Kelly was assured that not all was lost. Which was good, because since he'd left she'd felt rather lost without him.

"Then maybe you'd better do everyone a favour and keep your lips to yourself for awhile, at least until you've got that figured out."

"Maybe."

He yawned loudly and in her imagination she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Greg, honey, go to sleep. I'll talk to you later."

And when she hung up, she found that she was able to sleep after all, perhaps even more soundly than before. The kind of sleep that is a side effect of hope.


	61. Mix tape

Kelly could still remember how it felt when her first true love had a soundtrack. How it seemed like every sappy song on the radio and MTV made her think about Mark and overflow with mushy feelings. How it seemed like she had been admitted into this special club of people that "got it".

It seemed so magical then. But re-experiencing it as an adult over a man she was trying to convince herself she had no future with was simply frustrating. And what it caused her to do was infuriating.

"Thanks, Pete. Any problems?"

Kelly was reminded that her repeated assertion about her assistant being worth his weight in gold was not an exaggeration when he handed her the stolen iPod with a straight face, and answered in a voice devoid of teasing or anything else that would have embarrassed or otherwise caused a reaction in her, "None at all. It was where you said it would be."

They went over the notes from his meeting in Jersey, and the matter was not mentioned again. But as soon as he left the room, the iPod was in her hand. She hated herself for the sentimental feeling that hit her when her finger all but caressed a familiar dent in the casing, a dent she herself was responsible for causing when it fell out of her pocket and dropped onto the pavement. Months ago now - where had the time gone?

She powered it on and typed in the password from memory before docking it.

The process was a simple matter of drag-and-drop. She'd been working on this project for the past two weeks, and the only step left was a quick upload. With Christmas still 10 days away, she had plenty of time to wrap it up and send it back.

House would appreciate the fact that she had staged a break-and-enter, if nothing else.

As she scrolled through his playlists while the upload continued in the background, she congratulated herself on her restraint, though it really had taken everything in her not to give Pete the third degree about what he had seen. Not that she assumed House had been lying to her, but it would have been reassuring to hear that his place showed no signs of female intrusion.

When the upload was complete, she added the final touch: a picture of the two of them became his background image. It was a photo that had been found on her mom's camera not long ago, one she hadn't been aware had been taken. The scene was innocuous enough - House and Kelly were in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. Well, Kelly was. House was sitting on the counter, watching her.

And it was the watching that made the photo so compelling. It was the reason that same photo was framed and on her desk. It was the reason that her mother had called her only minutes after discovering it, ordering her to check her email immediately because there was something she'd definitely want to see. It was the reason that she'd had to try to convince the girls time and time again that no, he wasn't in love with her.

It was the reason she'd be inspired to do what she'd just done, the gravity and the accompanying self-loathing finally hitting her for the first time:

"Oh, good Lord," she uttered aloud. "I made him a mix tape."


End file.
